


The Place Where the Light Enters

by plusqueparfait



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plusqueparfait/pseuds/plusqueparfait
Summary: All Hailey wants is to put a pillow over her head and make it all go away. All Jay wants is to help her.
Relationships: Jay Halstead/Hailey Upton
Comments: 38
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

-o-o-

When Hailey had first joined the CPD, domestic violence cases would turn her upside down. As a uniform, she’d handled them frequently -- at one house in particular, there were calls at least once a week. She can still remember the hollow, vacant eyes of the woman who would answer the door, her hands shaking, the lies spilling smoothly and easily out of her swollen, bloodied lips. 

For years, those cases would make Hailey furious. They’d make her cry. They’d give her nightmares that lasted for weeks, vivid, angry dreams about her dad’s fist connecting with her face, about her mother’s screams, about broken glass and cops showing up at their door. 

But like everything in her life, Hailey had learned to conquer the dreams, the fear, the anger, the grief. It had taken literally hundreds of calls, but Hailey no longer shakes with rage when she can’t help a battered woman. She no longer drinks until she blacks out after she sees a child with a black eye or a broken wrist. It’s been years since she had a nightmare -- the last one was after her original encounter with Ronald Booth, when the visceral reminder of how it felt to have the crap kicked out of her was raw and painful and immediate. 

And now, it feels good that she can help Jay through this. That she’s strong enough to help her partner handle his emotions, his pain. It makes her feel proud that she’s gotten over her childhood enough that she can handle this kind of thing -- if she hadn’t outed herself, she thinks, no one would have even known. 

And besides, focusing on Jay helps her keep her mind off of herself. If she’s taking care of her partner, she can’t think about the way her stomach had turned at the photo of Michelle Sullivan’s swollen face. If she just concentrates on making sure Jay is okay, she can ignore the way her chest had tightened with rage -- and fear -- when Shane Sullivan told her that his wife had fallen off her bike. 

But there’s something about their talk at the bar that unsettles her. Something about the way Jay’s eyes widen in sympathetic horror when she tells him her mom is still with her dad. She’s not sure why -- she’d never intended to hide her past from Jay, but now that it’s out there, she feels raw and exposed in a way that makes her uncomfortable. 

She’d wanted to do this -- this drink, at this bar, with this man. She’d wanted to be there for him after a case she knows he’s taken personally. She’d wanted to make him smile, make him feel better. 

But now that he’s looking at her like that, she feels a sudden panicked urge to flee, to lock herself in her room and drink until she can’t see his wounded face anymore. To put a pillow over her head and try to make it all go away. 

“Hailey,” Jay says haltingly, and she knows what he’s going to ask her, knows what’s going to happen now, and she can’t. She shakes her head quickly, downs her drink in one gulp.

“Sorry,” she says, avoiding his eyes. His sad, worried eyes. “Can we just -- I don’t wanna…”

The silence is excruciating. Hailey can’t even look at him.

But he nods, and changes the subject, and Hailey is grateful. 

But the unsettled feeling in her stomach is still there. She wishes she could just bury this again, the way it had been until Michelle Sullivan and Jay Halstead ripped everything open. 

-o-o-

Jay drives Hailey home. She’s quiet in the passenger seat, her eyes staring vacantly out the window. 

There’s something about it that unsettles him.

She’s had more to drink then he’s used to seeing from her, and he’s not sure what to make of it. Hailey usually keeps her alcohol consumption in such tight check -- he’s rarely seen her have more than two drinks. He wonders now if that’s deliberate, and although she doesn’t seem drunk, it worries him.

He turns the corner onto her street, glancing at her for the fiftieth time in this ten minute ride, guilt twisting his insides. He’d let the case affect him too much, more than it should have. He’d forced her to comfort him, to take care of him. 

He can’t imagine the wounds this case had ripped open for her. 

He’d changed the subject when she asked him to, turned the conversation to the Blackhawks and the weather and the Democratic primary, but he can’t help but feel like he should have pushed her to keep talking. To let him help her. 

Sometimes Jay worries that their relationship is too one-sided. Hailey had been there for him through everything. After the shooting, she’d spent weeks by his side, helping him through those painful first post-surgery days, then keeping him company in the boring weeks of desk duty that followed. She’d brought him take-out and changed his bandages and drove him to endless doctors’ appointments and told him stories and made him laugh. She’d always seemed to know the right thing to say to him, always seemed to know how to support him or comfort him or prevent him from doing something stupid.

But despite that, he finds himself at a total loss on how to get through to her. 

“Thanks for the ride,” she says, smiling at him as he pulls up in front of her building. 

He wants to come in with her. Wants to force her to talk to him. Wants to make things better, the way he couldn’t when she was a kid.

He wants to kiss her.

“Hailey,” he tries, but she cuts him off before he can continue.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, and then she’s gone. 

-o-o-

The dream is nothing concrete. There’s no monster, no plot, no dead bodies and no one chasing her. 

It’s just lights and noise and blood and angry colors and the horrible sound she knows is a belt buckle connecting with bare skin. 

And screaming. Pitiful, horrified, screaming.

“Hailey!” a voice is saying. “Hailey! Hailey, wake up! Hailey!”

She does as ordered, and finds herself in a heap on the wood floor, tangled in the sheets. Her back aches, and her shoulder is smarting, and she has absolutely no idea how she ended up down here.

“Hailey!” Vanessa says again, and she can’t see her roommate’s face in the darkness of the bedroom, but her voice is totally freaked.

“Yeah,” she manages. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She curls into a ball on the floor, fighting to catch her breath. Vanessa sits beside her and doesn’t try to touch her. She’s grateful, because even just her presence, inches away, feels overwhelming.

When she finally regains control of her body, she pushes herself up, leaning back against the bed. 

Well, fuck. 

“I’m okay,” she says, because she can’t think of anything else to say. She has no way to explain what just happened, no answer to any of the questions she’s sure Vanessa has. “We should go back to bed.”

“You were screaming,” Vanessa says dumbly, and she realizes her friend is pretty rattled. 

“Just a bad dream,” Hailey says dismissively. “Come on, it’s still early.”

She stands up. Her legs are shaking, and she hopes Vanessa doesn’t notice.

Vanessa is still watching her, wide-eyed. “I’m fine,” she says, harsher this time. “Thanks for waking me, okay?”

Vanessa nods, opens her mouth as if to say something, then turns and leaves.

Once the bedroom door is closed again, Hailey lets herself sink back to the floor. She wraps her arms tightly around her knees, and tries not to cry.

-o-o-

Hailey’s eyes have dark, thick bags under them, and Jay can’t seem to keep from staring. 

He’s not totally sure anyone else has noticed. She’s been just as sharp and smart and fearless as ever. In the last few days alone she’d planned and led a raid on a meth lab, gotten a confession out of a triple murder suspect after a seven-hour interrogation, and put the pieces together on a complicated cartel hit that had left them all running in circles. 

But she looks exhausted and dazed, and it’s starting to worry him. 

And when he notices Rojas watching her too, it heightens the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

He corners Hailey’s roommate in the locker room, desperate for reassurance or answers or help -- he isn’t sure which. Vanessa startles when she senses him behind her, nearly banging her head on her locker.

“Sorry,” she says, laughing it off. “What’s up?

“I’m worried about Hailey,” he says quickly, without preamble, because he’s nervous that his partner is going to walk in any second, and she will not like this.

Rojas smirks, just a little. “Have you talked to her about that?” she asks, eyebrows raised. 

Jay’s not sure what that’s about. He chooses to ignore it. “She looks like she’s not sleeping,” he says instead. 

Rojas sighs. “I think -- yeah, I don’t think she has been,” she says. “She’s been running in the middle of the night.”

Halstead looks at her blankly. Running?

“And she’s been having nightmares,” Rojas admits, and then brandishes her finger. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

Jay’s too busy beating himself up to laugh or even smile. 

“Jay,” Vanessa says gently. “Just -- talk to her. You’ll be able to help her.”

Jay shakes his head. He’s not so sure about that.

“She needs you,” Rojas persists. “And believe me -- she wants your help.”

Jay frowns. He’s gotten to know Rojas pretty well since she started living with Hailey, but he’s not sure what this weird crypticness is all about. 

“Go,” Vanessa says, nodding towards the locker room door. “Talk to her. Go.”

He goes.  
-o-o-

Jay suggests lunch at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place in Pilsen. 

He’s been watching her all morning, his worried eyes following her as she got up to pick up a DMV record from the printer, to refill her coffee mug for the fourth time, to dig a bottle of Advil out of her locker. 

It’s making her crazy, but she also just...wants to have lunch with him.

So she says yes, and climbs into the passenger seat of his truck. 

“You okay?” Jay asks, as she absentmindedly sips her coffee. 

“I’m fine,” she says, hackles rising immediately. “Why?”

“You’ve been staring out the window for like ten minutes now,” he says gently.

She shakes her head, embarrassed. “Sorry,” she says. She realizes that their lunches have arrived, that Jay is already halfway through his. “Just tired.”

She picks up one of the greasy tacos, and her stomach immediately turns. She sets it down again, and takes another gulp of coffee.

“Just didn’t sleep well last night,” she mutters, avoiding his eyes. 

“You could try talking to me,” he says with a shrug, taking another bite of his food. “I’ve heard it helps.”

She can’t quite suppress her smile. “Talking to you?”

Jay smirks. “People say I’m a good listener. Almost like a shrink. But better looking.”

Hailey snorts. She thinks they might be flirting right now, and she thinks she might be enjoying it. 

“I’m fine,” she says. “Really.”

He’s looking at her the way he did that night at the bar, and she rushes to change the subject before he can ask her anything else. “Did you see that Iron Maiden is coming to Chicago?” she says, because it’s the first thing that pops into her mind. 

The radio on the table between them crackles to life, and Hailey feels a rush of relief. “Units in the 21 and units on the citywide,” the disembodied voice says. “We have reports of shots fired at 1925 South Allport Street.”

“That’s just around the corner,” Hailey says, reaching for her coat. Jay is already pulling cash out of his wallet and throwing it on the table. 

Hailey grabs for the radio. “50-21 Henry responding. We’re one block out. Please advise, plainclothes officers will be on scene.”

She follows Jay out of the restaurant, feeling like she’s been saved by the bell.

-o-o-

The house is quiet when they get there. It’s a small, two-story, redbrick building, solid and stable and working class and proud. 

The whole street is quiet. There’s no arguing, no fleeing cars, no sign of whoever called in gunshots. 

Hailey and Jay draw their weapons as they hustle up the stone steps to the front door. They hold for a few seconds, listening, observing. 

Jay shakes his head, then pounds on the door. “Chicago PD!” he shouts, and they wait, guns ready.

There’s no answer.

Hailey tests the doorknob, finds it unlocked. Slowly, carefully, she pushes the door open, and they slide into the house. 

Jay spots it first. “Body,” he whispers, nudging his gun in the direction of the middle-aged white man sprawled on the faux-leather couch. He’s clearly dead, a bloody circle darkening his blue Cubs t-shirt. His iPhone sits on his stomach, untouched. 

Jay points Hailey towards the stairs, and she nods, silently creeping up while Jay clears the bottom floor. 

She clears three bedrooms -- a master, a little boys’ room, and a teenage girl’s room -- and a small, cluttered bathroom. The house is empty.

“Clear!” she hears Jay call. 

“Clear up here too,” she responds, but at that moment, she hears a small, muffled thud. She instantly whirls around, gun pointing towards the sound.

It’s coming from the little boys’ room. 

Soundlessly, she tiptoes in. The walls are covered in tattered Cubs and Blackhawks posters, the bunk beds made up with rocket ship comforters. She carefully scans the small space, glances under the bottom bed -- nothing.

“Hailey?” Jay calls, but she doesn’t respond. She’s focused on the last remaining hiding spot -- the closet. 

Gun steady, she very slowly slides the door open.

“Don’t shoot!” a little voice screams. “Please don’t shoot!”

Nestled among a pile of clothes and stuffed animals and basketballs is a girl, no more than fifteen, her arms wrapped protectively around two small boys.

“Don’t shoot!” she begs again.

Heart hammering in her chest, Hailey holsters her weapon, kneeling down in front of the terrified kids.

“It’s okay,” she says, trying to comfort herself as much as them. “It’s okay.”

She sits down in front of them, trying to seem calm and steady. 

“My name is Hailey,” she says, slowly and carefully. “I’m a police officer. You’re safe, okay? Everything is okay.”

All three kids look at her, wide-eyed with terror. 

“Can you tell me your names?” she asks gently. The girl has a black eye spreading across her cheek, and she can’t help staring at it. “I promise you, everything is going to be okay,” she says, when none of them answer. 

“Lizzie,” the girl says, finally. Both boys keep their faces buried in her chest.

“Okay, good,” Hailey says. “Lizzie. Are these your brothers, Lizzie?”

Slowly, warily, Lizzie nods. “Alex and Jamie,” she says.

“Hailey!” Jay says, suddenly appearing in the room. All three kids flinch. 

Hailey holds out a reassuring hand. “Guys, this is my partner. This is Jay. We’re here to help.”

She turns towards Jay, who looks contrite. “This is Lizzie, Alex, and Jamie,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice calm and steady.

Jay nods. “You okay?” he says, his tone worried.

She tries to smile, tries to look reassuring. “Yeah, all good,” she promises. 

It feels like a lie, and she isn’t sure why.

-o-o-

Jay handles the body, calls in the team, coordinates evidence collection in the living room.

The silence from upstairs is deafening, and Jay can’t help casting anxious glances towards the second floor of the small house. 

The look on her face as she’d told him she was good hadn’t done much to ease the anxiety that’s been stirring in his chest all day. 

And part of him can’t help wondering if it’s a premonition. He’s not superstitious, and he definitely doesn’t believe in a sixth sense, or anything like that, but his gut is telling him that something is wrong. 

“Should we hand this off to homicide?” he asks Voight, trying not to sound hopeful. He can’t pinpoint why, and he wouldn’t be able to explain if his boss asked, but he doesn’t want this case. Not at all. In fact, he wants to be far, far away from it -- and he wants to get Hailey far away from it.

Voight shrugs. “We caught it. We’re gonna stay on.”

Jay nods. Fuck. 

-o-o-

Hailey sits on the floor and tries to coax a trio of scared kids out of a closet.

Neither Alex nor Jamie, who she’s ascertained are twins, will look at her. Jamie has yet to take his face out of Lizzie’s stomach, and it’s hard to look at, because she recognizes that image -- she can picture herself, five-years-old, shaking in her brother’s arms while they hid from her dad.

She’s supposed to be asking what they saw, she knows. Supposed to be finding out who killed their father. That’s her job.

But all she can see are the bruises marring Lizzie’s face, the cigarette burns peeking out beneath her oversized sweatshirt.

“That looks like it hurts,” she says, nodding towards Lizzie’s eye. 

The girl shrugs, not making eye contact. “It’s no big deal,” she says, her voice too cavalier, too rough for a kid her age.

“How’d it happen?” Hailey asks.

“Volleyball,” she says firmly.

“Volleyball?” Hailey repeats. The answer is familiar and evasive and flat-out wrong.

“I got hit in the face with a ball,” she says vaguely. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you on the volleyball team at school?” Hailey prods. Lizzie finally looks at her, eyes stirring with anxiety.

“No,” she says, defensively. “I was just messing around with my friends.”

He can’t hurt you anymore, Hailey wants to say, but she doesn’t.

She knows that isn’t actually true.

“What about the burns on your wrist?” she pushes. “Did your dad do that?”

Lizzie bristles, and pulls her sleeves further over her hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I get it,” Hailey says. She’s pushing too hard, way too hard, she knows, but she can’t help herself. “You wanna protect your dad, I get that, Lizzie. But you don’t need to anymore.”

She doesn’t know why she’s doing this. Lizzie’s father is dead -- downstairs in the living room with a bullet in his chest, and what she should be doing is trying to figure out if these kids got a look at the shooter. 

Instead, she’s chasing ghosts. 

“My dad used to hit me too,” Hailey says quietly. 

“My dad doesn’t hit me,” Lizzie retorts. “Okay?”

Hailey’s head is pounding. Her palms are sweating. She squeezes her eyes shut, takes a deep breath.

The case. Focus on the case.

“Did you see what happened?” she manages. Her voice feels scratchy and weak. “Did you see the person who…”

Lizzie shakes her head. Wraps her arms more tightly around her little brothers. “No,” she says firmly. “We were up here.”

“Can you tell me what you heard?” Hailey asks.

“My dad was arguing with a man, and we heard a gunshot, so we hid in the closet,” Lizzie says. The speech sounds planned. Rehearsed. 

It feels wrong.

“Hailey,” Jay says, and she jumps. He’s standing right behind her and she didn’t even notice. 

She tries to compose herself before turning around. “Yeah,” she says. “Sorry.”

He’s got that concerned expression on his face, and she has to look away. 

“We’re finished downstairs,” he says finally. “We should get the kids back to the district.”

“Yeah,” she says.

Lizzie looks scared. One of the boys starts crying.

“It’s okay,” Hailey says. “It’s all okay.”

It’s not. And they all know it.

-o-o-


	2. Chapter Two

Thank you all so much for your very sweet comments! Hope you enjoy chapter two!

-o-o-

Hailey and Jay get the three kids settled in the break room after an agonizingly silent, tense car ride. Jay digs through the refrigerator for some child-friendly snacks, and ultimately settles on texting Platt for help. 

“I’ll be right back,” Hailey says vaguely, her eyes hazy and unfocused. 

She’s gone before he can say anything.

He finds himself alone with three terrified children -- all staring at him. 

“You guys like cookies?” he asks awkwardly. “I think we may have some cookies downstairs.”

None of the kids respond. Lizzie is watching him with open hostility while one of the boys cries, quiet but messy. 

Jay finds a box of tissues on the counter and kneels down, handing it to him. The kid looks to his sister, as if asking for permission. Jay is relieved when she nods.

“I know everything is really scary right now,” he says, keeping his voice calm and even and soothing. “I promise you, you guys are safe here, and we are going to find the person that did this to your dad.”

Both little boys look to their sister again. “Good,” she says finally. 

Her eye is painfully swollen, and Jay flinches in sympathy. “Do you want some ice?” he asks, gesturing towards it. “We’ve got some frozen peas. It’ll make it feel a little better.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says defensively.

Jay nods slowly. “Did that happen today?” he asks. It looks fresh, like the bruising hasn’t quite set yet. 

“This morning,” Lizzie says. She avoids his eyes. “I was playing volleyball with some of my friends. At the Y. It doesn’t even hurt.”

Jay knows that’s not true -- either the volleyball story, or the idea that a bruise like that could not hurt -- but he lets it go.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, if you change your mind, you let me or Hailey know, okay?”

Lizzie doesn’t look at him, but she nods.

“I’m gonna go see if we can find you guys something to eat, okay?” Jay says. “I’ll be right back.”

No one says a word, but Lizzie gives him a small nod, tightening her grip on her little brothers.

-o-o-

Jay heads for the locker room first. He’s been concerned about Hailey for weeks -- the distance in her eyes, the vacant smiles, the vague responses to his texts -- but ever since they’d found those kids, she’d been practically shaking, and his worry has multiplied.

As soon as he opens the door, he hears the sound of retching, and freezes.

She’s hunched over the garbage can, one hand holding her hair away from her face, her body convulsing as she heaves. 

He watches her straighten up and pull a paper towel from the dispenser with trembling hands. She doesn’t seem to have heard him, and so he stands there, unable to move, as she chokes back a sob and splashes water on her face.

She jumps when she looks in the mirror and sees him staring. 

He’s not used to seeing her like this. Hailey is his rock, and over the last few turbulent, traumatic years, he’s sometimes felt like she’s the only thing holding him together. 

And now that she’s standing here, clearly falling apart right in front of him, and he has absolutely no idea what to do. 

“You need some water?” he asks finally. He tries to focus on something concrete, something he can do for her. 

She shakes her head, mute, then quickly turns away. 

“Hailey, what’s going on?” he asks gently. 

“I’m just -- not feeling good, I guess,” she says, opening her locker. “Stomach thing, maybe. I don’t know.”

He watches her search the top shelf. She’s still shaking. 

“Look,” he starts, but the door opens again. 

“Hey, there you are,” Adam says. “Voight wants you to talk to the daughter. See what you can get.”

He senses the tension, glances from Hailey to Jay and back. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Hailey says. “All good.”

She slams her locker door, strides out into the bullpen.

Jay is again left watching her walk away. The anxiety churning in his gut grows stronger and stronger. 

-o-o-

Ruzek takes the two little boys to a nearby playground, and Hailey pulls up a chair next to the couch, a few feet from Lizzie. Jay takes a seat at the table, a respectful distance away. He’s not sure who he’s trying to help here -- Hailey or Lizzie.

The girl says she’s sixteen, but she looks much younger, and scared, and alone. She keeps running her hands through her long blond hair, fingers anxiously playing with the knots and tangles. 

“Can you tell me again what happened today?” Hailey asks. She’s so gentle with Lizzie, so sweet and caring, and Jay can’t help admiring the way she connects so effortlessly.

“I told you,” Lizzie says. “My dad was arguing with a man in the living room. Alex and Jamie and I were upstairs in our rooms. When I heard the gunshot, I ran into their room and we hid in the closet.”

“Did you know the man who was arguing with your dad?” Hailey presses.

“I didn’t see him,” Lizzie says. “We were upstairs the whole time.”

“Did you recognize his voice, maybe?” Hailey asks.

Lizzie shrugs. She looks up at Jay, then darts her eyes away. “I don’t know who he is.”

“Did this happen a lot?” Hailey asks. “Your dad arguing with people?”

“Sometimes,” Lizzie says vaguely. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Did you hear what they were arguing about?” Hailey tries. Lizzie shrugs. “Work, maybe?”

Lizzie shakes her head. Hailey glances at Jay. He raises an eyebrow -- this kid’s hiding something.

Hailey gives him a tiny nod -- she knows. 

“Where are my brothers?” Lizzie asks. “I need to take them home.”

Hailey glances at him again. “Jay, can you give us a minute?” she asks.

He doesn’t want to. She looks so fragile, like she could fall apart at any minute, and he wants to be there if she does.

But he trusts Hailey. He knows she can handle herself, and so he smiles and nods, and leaves her alone.

-o-o-

She’s in that room for almost an hour. 

Jay sits at his desk, trying to focus on researching their victim, but he can’t stop himself from glancing in the direction of the breakroom every few seconds. He’s alert for the sound of the door opening, but it doesn’t come. 

He fights the urge to walk by, to check in. She’s in there talking to a teenage girl. A teenage girl who has just lost her father suddenly, violently. It’s going to take some time.

And it’s fine. He doesn’t know why he can’t seem to settle. Everything is fine.

Ruzek returns, looking around the empty bullpen. “Where is everyone?” he asks warily.

“Atwater and Burgess went to the morgue,” he says. “Hailey’s still talking to Lizzie.”

Ruzek glances towards the breakroom. He looks worried too, and it only compounds Jay’s anxiety. 

“Kids tell you anything?” Jay asks.

Adam shakes his head. “Mom left a few years back. Seems like Lizzie’s really the one who takes care of them.”

Jay nods sadly. Those poor kids, all alone.

He’s pretty sure, given the bruise on Lizzie’s face, that their dad wasn’t such a great guy. But still.

“Platt calling social services?” he confirms.

“Yeah,” Ruzek says. “The boys are hanging out at the front desk with her now. She says Blair found an emergency placement for all three of them.”

“That’s good,” Jay says. At least they can stay together. 

“Yeah,” Ruzek agrees.

Jay glances at the breakroom again. Still no movement.

-o-o-

When the social worker arrives, Jay knocks on the breakroom door. 

Hailey has moved to sit on the couch beside Lizzie, and she startles when he walks in. Her eyes are red, like she’s been crying. Lizzie’s are too.

“Um -- CPS is here,” he says dumbly. “Blair. She’s downstairs with Alex and Jamie.”

Hailey nods rapidly, then turns back to Lizzie. “Blair is our social worker,” she explains, her voice hoarse. “She’s going to take you and Alex and Jamie to a foster home for now, and she’ll help you find a more permanent place in the next few weeks.”

“Why can’t we just stay in our house?” Lizzie asks.

“I’m so sorry, Lizzie, we can’t let you do that,” Hailey explains gently. “You’re too young to live on your own.”

“Can we stay together?” Lizzie asks, looking back and forth between them, panic in her eyes.

“Yes,” Jay says. “They found a house for all three of you. You’re going to stay together.”

Lizzie still looks scared, but she nods.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow,” Hailey promises her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” Lizzie whispers. 

Hailey puts an arm around her, guides her out the door. 

-o-o-

By the time she gets back upstairs, the team has regrouped. Kim sticks a DMV photo of their victim to the board, while Atwater fills in notes from the ME’s report. 

“What have we got?” Voight asks, as Hailey crests the staircase.

“Daniel Alonso,” Kim says, pointing to the headshot. “38-years-old, worked as a mechanic at Gomez Garage. No priors. He’s a single father -- three kids, Lizzie, age 16, Alex, and James, both six, all home at the time of the murder. Cause of death was a single gunshot to the chest.”

“All right, so what do we know about this guy?” Voight asks.

Rojas shrugs. “Guys at the garage said he was a nice guy, liked to get drunk on payday. They didn’t remember any problems with anyone.”

“Financials were clean,” Jay adds. “And nothing at the house indicated a robbery or break-in.”

“The daughter said she heard her father arguing with a man, and then a gunshot?” Voight says.

Hailey looks like a deer caught in the headlights. “Yeah,” she says, voice hoarse. “She didn’t see anything, didn’t recognize the voice.”

“She didn’t give you anything at all?” Voight pushes. “She had no idea why someone would come into her house and shoot her father?”

Hailey stands frozen, her eyes blank and impenetrable. It’s a posture Jay’s seen her adopt many, many times when she’s trying to keep something -- her emotions, the truth -- in check. He recognizes it from a few weeks ago, when he’d tracked her cell and followed her to South Side Hustler territory. 

This doesn’t concern you. 

“She’s a scared kid,” Hailey says. “She just lost her father. I’ll try again tomorrow, see if she remembers anything.”

Voight looks skeptical, but he nods. “All right, let’s call it a night then. We’ll dig back into Alonso in the morning.”

Hailey takes off for the locker room before Voight can say anything else.

-o-o-

He tries to call her that night but she doesn’t pick up. 

For some reason, all he can think about is the image of her in those photos, the ones he’d pulled from the secret file that nobody was supposed to know about. Her cheeks painted black and blue, her eyes empty and haunted.

You went to Rafferty behind my back, she’d said, like the person who was hurting her was him and not Ronald Booth. Like the unforgivable thing had been trying to protect her, rather than beating her within an inch of her life. 

He knows that whatever she and Lizzie talked about today was painful. Knows this case is treading on a sore spot that was only recently dug up. But, as usual, while he knows Hailey would know what to do, he’s at a loss.

Twenty different times you’ve figured out a way to tell me, don’t get too close. 

He heats up a frozen pizza, eats it in silence on the couch. He tries to call her again.

She doesn’t pick up.

-o-o-

“I’m gonna go talk to Lizzie,” Hailey says, first thing in the morning. He hasn’t even had his first cup of coffee yet.

“Okay,” he says anyway, grabbing his jacket. “You think she might remember something?”

Hailey hesitates. “I thought I’d go alone,” she says, not looking at him. “She trusts me. I thought I could maybe get her to talk.”

It should be nothing. Of course she can go talk to a witness by herself -- a scared teenage girl, no less. But something about it doesn’t sit well with Jay.

“How about I tag along?” he offers lightly. “I’ll sit in the car.”

“I think it would be better just me,” she says, with a stiff smile that shuts down the conversation.

“Hailey,” he says, lowering his voice. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she promises. She gives him a blank, empty smile. “I’m okay,” she says, and he’s so tired of hearing those words come out of her mouth. 

She squeezes his arm, then disappears down the stairs.

Jay watches her go, feeling like he’s powerless to stop whatever’s going to happen. 

-o-o-

Jay sits at his desk, jumping at every sound, eyes immediately darting towards the stairs.

It’s never Hailey.

“Halstead,” Voight says quietly as he walks by his desk. He nods almost imperceptibly at his office, and Jay follows him there, closing the door behind him.

“You hear from Hailey?” Voight asks, leaning against the radiator. 

Jay sighs, suddenly exhausted. He lets himself collapse onto the couch.

“She went to go talk to Lizzie,” he says.

“She tell you what they talked about yesterday?” Voight probes.

Jay shakes his head. She hasn’t told him anything about anything.

Voight’s silent for a long, long time. Finally, he says. “I’m worried about her.”

His first instinct is to cover for her. To reassure his boss -- their boss -- that she’s fine, that she’s solid, that everything’s good. 

But he looks up at his gruff, hardass sergeant’s concerned eyes, and he can’t manage the charade. “Me too,” he says.

“I know you two…” Voight starts, then seems to change his mind. “Has she talked to you about what happened with Darius Walker?”

“No,” Jay says, and feels an instant wave of guilt crash over him. He knows she’s pushing him away -- but he also knows that if the situation had been reversed, she would have found a way to get through to him.

He needs to find a way. 

No matter what.

-o-o-


	3. Chapter 3

-o-o-

Guys! Thank you all so much for your comments! They’ve really meant the world to me on what (I’m sure for everyone!) has been a very, very difficult week. Hope you’re all staying safe and healthy. I’ll try to keep posting as much as I can!

-o-o-

A no-nonsense middle-aged woman answers the door when Hailey knocks. She’s brusque and business-like, but kind, and she introduces herself as Lucia Matthews. She’s been hosting foster kids for more than twenty years now, she explains. Ever since she learned she couldn’t have children of her own. 

Hailey sits at the kitchen table while Lucia goes to get Lizzie. She wishes she had a coffee mug to wrap her hands around, to give her something to do.

Lizzie looks tired when she finally comes down to the kitchen, and a little wary. Hailey smiles, trying to look reassuring.

“How’re you doing?” she asks gently.

“Fine,” Lizzie says, her eyes avoiding Hailey’s. “Good. Yeah.”

“And Jamie and Alex?” Hailey presses.

“Yeah, they’re good,” Lizzie says, nodding, like she’s trying to convince herself. “They’re playing in the backyard. There’s a couple other kids here, so…”

“That’s good,” Hailey says. 

“Yeah,” Lizzie murmurs. She glances up at Hailey, her eyes quickly darting away. “Did you, uh -- you didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“No,” Hailey says. “I wouldn’t do that unless I had to.”

Lizzie nods, her gaze fixated on the floor. 

“Mrs. Matthews seems nice,” Hailey tries, and Lizzie nods again. “Did they tell you how long you’re going to be here?”

“No,” Lizzie says, her leg bouncing anxiously. “Just till they can find us somewhere permanent, I guess.”

“Blair told me that she may have found a relative, maybe someone you can stay with,” Hailey says. “She says you have an uncle in Janesville?”

Lizzie tenses, violently. “No.”

Hailey’s not sure what to say. She waits for Lizzie to elaborate, but nothing comes. “No?”

“He doesn’t want us,” Lizzie spits. “He knew, he knew all of it, but he never -- all he ever did was tell my dad that smacking your kids around wasn’t a good look. That’s what he called it. ‘Not a good look.’”

Hailey forces herself to breathe, to squash the fury flowing through her veins.

“Okay,” she says, calmly, evenly. “What about your mom?”

Lizzie snorts. “My mom left me,” she says. “You think she gives a shit?”

“When’s the last time you saw her?” Hailey presses.

“Few months ago? I don’t know,” Lizzie says bitterly. “She’s got a whole new family.”

Hailey sits up a little straighter, intrigued.

“You saw her a few months ago?”

“She came by to fight with my dad about alimony,” Lizzie says. “All she ever cared about was money.”

“Did he hit her too?” Hailey asks tentatively. 

Lizzie shrugs, a gesture which Hailey takes to be a yes. 

Hailey watches her, heart breaking. “You’re gonna get through this,” she says, leaning forward. The teenager flinches, and Hailey pulls back just slightly. “I promise you, Lizzie. It’s going to all be okay.”

Lizzie pushes away a tear, wincing as she hits her black eye. “Yeah,” she says hoarsely.

Hailey can tell she doesn’t believe her.

-o-o-

She takes the stairs two at a time, finds the bullpen almost empty. “Where is everyone?” she practically yells at Atwater, who’s sitting alone at his desk.

“Burgess is reviewing pod footage downstairs,” he says. “And Rojas and Ruzek went to go talk to that loan shark. Are you okay?”

Hailey barely even stops. 

“The mother,” she says breathlessly, as both Jay and Voight emerge from his office. “Lizzie’s mother.”

Voight folds his arms across his chest, his eyes studying her face. “What about her?”

“Lizzie says she’s been around lately, demanding alimony payments,” Hailey says, excitement building in her chest. “She’s got a boyfriend she’s been with for four years, and they’ve got a three-year-old son, but they won’t get married so she can keep collecting alimony.”

“Okay,” Voight says skeptically.

“And,” Hailey says, barely able to suppress a grin, “She owns a nine mil.”

She’d looked up Nicole Gomez’s gun registration records on the laptop in her car, all while speeding back to the district in a frantic rush. She could get in a lot of trouble for that, but no one needs to know. 

She looks back and forth between her partner and her boss. Neither of them looks convinced. 

“She can’t collect alimony if he’s dead,” Jay points out skeptically.

“She’s not collecting alimony!” Hailey says impatiently. “Alonso’s 65k in debt, he’s not paying his loser ex anything. And he beat the crap out of her, according to Lizzie. If he’s not paying her off, he might as well be dead, right?”

“Lizzie said she heard a man arguing with her dad,” Jay says.

“So?” Hailey says. “She could have sent the boyfriend to do it. Or maybe Lizzie is protecting the mom for some reason, I don’t know.”

Voight and Jay exchange glances, and Hailey digs her nails into her palms to keep from losing it. 

“Worth a shot,” Voight finally says. “Go pick her up.”

-o-o-

Nicole Gomez is nothing like the monster Hailey expected. She’s young -- only 31 -- and pretty, and she looks more like Lizzie’s older sister than her mother. Especially now that she’s sitting in interrogation, her confused, scared expression an exact match for her daughter’s. 

Hailey wants to kill her. She wants to dig her thumbs into Nicole Gomez’s neck, wants to bang her head against the steel table until the bitch is unconscious.

She wants Nicole Gomez to hurt. 

“When’s the last time you saw your ex-husband?” Jay asks. He’s playing good cop, while Hailey sits beside him, arms crossed over her chest, eyes blazing. 

Nicole shifts uncomfortably. “Daniel? A few months ago, maybe? I’m not sure.” She glances at Hailey, then turns back to Jay. “What’s going on? Did he do something?”

“Why’d you go see him a few months ago?” Jay says.

“To ask for a divorce,” Nicole says. “He would never give me one, but Andrew -- my fiance -- he thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Jay pushes, when she doesn’t continue.

“It’s been a long time, you know?” Nicole says, and her eyes fill with tears. “Andrew thought maybe he would have cooled off by now. Maybe he’d finally be willing to give me the divorce.”

Hailey frowns. 

“Lizzie says you’ve been getting alimony payments,” she says. 

Nicole stares at her, stunned. 

“Alimony?” she says. “No, never. We’re not even divorced -- he wouldn’t do it.”

“So he never gave you any money?” Hailey says. Yeah, right. 

She can feel Jay’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t back down.

“He -- yes, he gave me some money,” Nicole says finally. “But not -- it wasn’t -- I couldn’t work! I had no skills, no family, no friends. After everything -- it was the only way to survive! And to get it, I had to go back to him every time!”

Hailey’s heart is pounding hard. Her head is spinning. 

“It wasn’t until I met Andrew that I felt like I could finally get out!” Nicole protests. “But I haven’t -- I haven’t taken any money from him since I met Andrew. Not a penny, I swear. What’s going on?”

She looks back and forth between Hailey and Jay, her eyes filling with tears.

“Is Lizzie okay? Did Daniel…”

And Hailey loses it. 

“Did he hurt her?” she snaps, practically leaping out of her chair. “Did he kill her? Is that what you wanna know?”

Tears stream silently down Nicole Gomez’s face, and for a split second, she looks so much like Hailey’s own mother that she almost throws up. 

“Lizzie’s fine, no thanks to you,” Hailey says, her voice rising. 

“I couldn’t take her,” Nicole chokes. “He said -- he said he would kill me if I did, and he never hurt her. He never did.”

“How fucking stupid are you?” Hailey yells. 

“Hailey,” Jay says, his voice low and even, but she ignores him. 

“You thought it was just you he smacked around? Thought you could leave and he’d be daddy of the year for your little girl? You left her!”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole chokes. “I’m so sorry.”

The door to interrogation flies open. 

“Detective Upton, you got a sec?” Voight’s gravelly voice says, but she’s too far gone to feel anything.

“What kind of mother would do that?” Hailey growls, her face practically in Nicole’s. “I bet you were relieved, right? That at least it wasn’t you? Who cares if it’s your fucking daughter, right?”

“Hailey!” Voight says, louder this time, and a hand closes around her bicep. She tries to shrug it off, but Jay’s grip is too strong. “Now!”

She stares Nicole down. The woman is sobbing now, shoulders shaking, mascara streaking across her face. 

It feels good.

She yanks her arm out of Jay’s hand and stalks out of the room.

-o-o-

She sits in Voight’s office in silence, waiting for her punishment. All the adrenaline has drained out of her, and she slumps in the chair, staring hazily into the distance. 

She feels nothing.

Voight keeps her waiting for nearly half an hour. When he walks in, he doesn’t say anything. 

Two can play that game. She doesn’t either. 

Just as she expected, she wins. But she’s not expecting him to be nice. “You been sleeping?” he asks, his voice gruff but kind.

She can’t come up with a response. “What?”

“Eating?” he presses. “You look terrible.”

She bristles at that, but stands her ground. “I’m fine.”

“What about drinking?” he says, and her eyes widen. “I don’t mean today.”

“No,” she says through gritted teeth. “I appreciate your concern Sergeant, but I’m fine. I’d like to get back to work.”

“Hmm,” Voight says, in that inscrutable way that drives Hailey crazy. “You said the kid didn’t tell you anything.”

Hailey makes sure to keep her face blank. “She didn’t.”

“She told you the father hit her,” Voight says. “You didn’t think that might be relevant?”

“She asked me to keep it confidential,” Hailey says, her voice clipped and empty and totally professional. “When it became relevant to the case, I brought it in.”

Voight sighs. “Hailey--”

There’s a knock on the door. Hailey doesn’t move from her chair, her eyes fixed on Voight’s. He shakes his head. “Yeah,” he calls.

Jay opens the door, glances warily between Hailey and Voight. Hailey doesn’t look at him. “Her alibi checks out. Security cam footage puts her at her doctor’s office from 1:32 until 2:24 PM.”

“What about the boyfriend?” Hailey asks, her eyes still focused on Voight.

She can hear Jay shifting uncomfortably. “He was with her. She’s, uh -- she’s pregnant, and they were…”

“Okay, then,” Voight says. “Cut her loose.”

Jay nods. Hailey can feel him watching her, but she still doesn’t turn in his direction. He closes the door on his way out.

Hailey forces herself to focus. “Sarge,” she says. “I’m sorry about that interview. Won’t happen again.”

Voight doesn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he nods. Dismissed.

Hailey slips out the door. Finally lets herself breathe. 

-o-o-


	4. Chapter 4

-o-o-

You guys are the best! Thank you thank you thank you! I’ve definitely got a lot of story left, so...hope you enjoy!!

-o-o-

It’s been nearly 72 hours since they caught the case, and Hailey hasn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep total over the entire three days. She can’t remember the last time she slept for more than 15 minutes in a row.

The truth is, she doesn’t really care if they solve this case. Daniel Alonso is dead, and good riddance. Why should she worry about putting his killer in jail? As far as she’s concerned, the guy deserves a medal.

But the detective in her can’t help needing to find the answer. And besides -- she feels like Lizzie and her brothers aren’t truly safe until they know what happened.

And so she keeps going. Even when everything in her is screaming to run far, far away. 

-o-o-

Ruzek slaps a mug shot on the board, and announces, “Marcus Fletcher.”

They all gather around, slowly. Jay’s exhausted. Every bone in his body aches. He hasn’t been sleeping well these last few nights, his mind unable to shut down, and it feels like his whole being is in open rebellion.

He’s getting too old for this shit. 

“We were able to use the neighbor’s Ring cam,” Kim says, adding a photo of a license plate to the board. “There’d been a bunch of package thefts lately, so the guy set it to record. Which turns out to be really good for us.” She indicates the license plate number. “This Toyota Camry drives by the house 34 minutes before the 911 call. The camera doesn’t give a wide range, so we don’t know for sure if the car parked nearby, or if it stopped or anything, but it’s registered to one Marcus Fletcher.”

Rojas reads off the guy’s rap sheet. “Manslaughter, armed robbery, B&E,” she rattles off. “On parole from Statesville. He just did a twelve-year bid, got out last month.”

“Okay, so, we’ve got an ex-con driving down the street,” Voight says skeptically. “Could be a coincidence. What’s the connection to Daniel Alonso?”

“His sister,” Kim says, trying to hide her smile. She tapes a DMV photo to the board, a pretty blonde who looks a lot like Lizzie’s mother. “She dated Alonso for six months. Seems like if Daniel likes to smack his girlfriends around, well, maybe Fletcher wasn’t too happy with how our victim treated his sister.”

Jay glances at Hailey. She’s practically vibrating. 

“Let’s pick him up then,” Voight says. 

Hailey’s halfway down the stairs before he can even get his coat.

-o-o-

“Hailey,” Jay says gently, as soon as they confirm that Marcus Fletcher is not in the house. “You’d tell me if something was going on, right?”

She’s laser focused on the street, eyes scanning up and down the block. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, not sure how to broach this.

He knows he has to.

“Look, I know you feel a connection to Lizzie,” he says, and she flinches. “And I get it, and far be it for me to lecture you--”

“Then don’t,” she says, her voice clipped. 

He’s taken aback by the harshness of her tone -- it’s like nothing he’s ever heard from her before. 

They’re trapped in a car, so this time at least, she can’t walk away. 

“Well, I’m going to anyway,” he says. “What’d you say to me? You’ve gotta walk away from this one.”

“This is totally different,” she protests.

“It’s not feeling that way to me.”

“We’re investigating a murder!” she says angrily. “You were -- I don’t know, dealing with your own guilty conscience.” 

He swallows hard, absorbing that. He knows she’s just trying to push him away, and there’s no way he’s going to let her, but it hurts anyway. 

“I’m trying to figure out who killed that man, and I’m trying to help his daughter put her life back together, okay?” she continues, her voice rising. “And yes, okay, you’ve figured it all out, I do feel a connection to her, but I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Jay lets her cool off for a minute. She’s studiously focused on the street. He’s not used to seeing her lose it like that, and he knows she isn’t either, knows she’s uncomfortable with having her emotions on display like that. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he says finally.

“There he is,” Hailey says, and before he can say anything else, she’s out of the car.

-o-o-

“Marcus Fletcher!” Hailey calls, just before the suspect can unlock his front door.

He turns around, gets one look at her, and takes off running down the block.

Fuck, Jay swears under his breath. “50-21 George, we’ve got an offender fleeing southbound down 37th Street,” he calls into the radio, sprinting to catch both the perp and his partner.

“Jay, cut him off around the corner!” she yells, as Fletcher turns down an alleyway, Hailey right on his heels. 

He does as ordered, rounding the corner just as the two of them come flying out of the alleyway, right into the path of an oncoming pickup truck.

“Hailey!” Jay screams, but she ignores him, launching herself at Fletcher and tackling him to the pavement. The pickup comes to a screeching halt, its bumper just inches away from her head. 

Hailey digs her knee into the offender’s back and cuffs him. Jay stands, frozen, barely able to breathe. 

-o-o-

Jay doesn’t say a word to her the whole drive back to the district, but he corners her in the locker room as soon as they hand the perp over to Atwater and Ruzek. 

He still doesn’t say anything, but fury is radiating off of him in waves. 

“What’s up?” she asks.

“What’s up? Are you kidding me, Hailey?” he demands, his tone angrier than she’s ever heard, angrier than when she’d gone off-book to bring down Ronald Booth, angrier than when he’d accused her of telling Voight to bench him.

You’re just projecting whatever daddy-daughter issues got you screwed up.

“Jay,” she sighs.

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” he seethes. “Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“Come on!”

“Hailey, I’m telling you for the last time, back off. You’re too close to this. You pull something like that again, I’m going straight to Voight.”

He storms out and all she can do is stand there, stunned. 

-o-o-

Jay sits at his desk, shaking. He’s still furious -- but some of that anger is directed at himself now, and all he wants to do is sit down beside her and tell her that he didn’t mean it, didn’t mean any of it. 

It was just that watching that truck come at her, watching her deliberately throw herself in front of it…

But the look on her face as he yelled at her, as he threatened to go to Voight -- he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to erase that from his memory.

She’d looked scared. Of him.

He glances at her yet again, but she doesn’t look up. She’s sitting just across from him, but it might as well be the other side of the world. 

“So, Fletcher’s alibi checks out,” Ruzek says with a sigh. “His boss confirms he was at the warehouse, he’s signed in electronically, and they gave us the security footage to prove it.”

Jay groans. This case is never going to end. 

Voight looks equally frustrated. 

“I may have something,” Kim says, and this time she sounds less excited, and more reluctant. Everyone turns to her. “I’ve been reviewing that Ring cam footage that we have, and...well, no one goes in or out of the Alonso house. All day”

“How far back did you go?” Voight asks.

“I mean, till sunrise. No one enters or leaves that house all day.”

Jay glances at Hailey. She looks devastated. 

“Is there any other way into the house?” Rojas asks. She’s looking at Hailey too.

“Just the backdoor, and we checked it -- locked and deadbolted,” Burgess says.

“Maybe someone slept over,” Hailey says hoarsely.

“Yeah, but that means none of the kids said anything about it,” Ruzek says. “Which means they’re all hiding something.”

Hailey swallows. Hard. For a second Jay thinks she might cry. 

“All right,” Voight says finally. “Rojas, go pick up Lizzie.”

-o-o-

“You sure you’re okay to do this?” Jay asks quietly. 

Hailey doesn’t meet his eyes. She can’t. Not if she’s going to get through this. 

She nods, pushes past him into the interrogation room.

“Hailey!” Lizzie gasps, her voice a mixture of relief and terror. “What’s going on? What am I doing here?”

Hailey sets the file down on the table between them. Lets her legs collapse into the chair. 

“Lizzie,” she says, and then stops. Fuck. 

She takes a deep breath. Tries to calm her pounding heart.

“Lizzie, there’s a security camera at the house across the street from yours,” she says finally. “One of those Amazon Ring things.”

Lizzie stares at her, confused. 

“It points right at your door,” Hailey says, and God, she doesn’t want to do this. “And it was recording the whole afternoon.”

“Okay,” Lizzie says, and Hailey can tell she still doesn’t understand.

“No one went in or out of your house,” Hailey says. “Not until we got there.”

Lizzie’s eyes widen and she takes a deep, shaky gulp of air. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened,” Hailey whispers, leaning towards her. Her back is to the mirror, and she’s so thankful Jay and Voight can’t see her. 

Lizzie looks wildly around the room. Panicked. 

“I told you, nothing happened. We were watching a movie in my brothers’ room, and we hid in the closet when we heard gunshots.”

The lines sound rehearsed. She’s been practicing. Except…

“I thought you were in your room,” Hailey pushes gently.

“My room,” Lizzie says, her voice rising. “I meant my room. You know what I meant.”

Hailey closes her eyes. Wishes she could be anywhere but here. 

“You know, I’ve been there,” she says. “Lying about the black eyes. The broken wrists. I remember telling my teachers that I’d tripped over a soccer ball and fallen down the stairs.”

She laughs, bitterly. She can still see the look on her teacher’s face, the disbelief, the doubt.

And still, no one had done anything about it.

“Once I said we got in a car accident while driving to my uncle’s in Minneapolis. That we’d skidded on ice.”

Nobody had done anything about that broken collarbone either.

“I always felt like it helped to be specific, you know?” Hailey says. “When you were lying?”

Lizzie’s eyes are fixated on hers, but she doesn’t say anything. Hailey forces herself to keep going, forces herself not to look away. Forces herself not to think about Jay, watching her from behind that mirror. 

“When I was seventeen...my older brothers had moved out, and it was just me at home. I was applying to colleges, getting ready to leave too, and my dad -- his restaurant wasn’t doing so good, and...I don’t know. He’d been drinking more than usual.”

She looks away. Can’t meet Lizzie’s eyes anymore.

“That day...it was a Sunday,” Hailey says, and suddenly she’s back there, in that house, a scared, skinny teenager, alone and defenseless. “I’d been out with friends, gotten home late. I woke up to my parents fighting. Him...hitting her. He had his hands around her throat.”

She can still hear the screams, can taste the bile in her throat.

“I mean, that’d been going on my whole life, but...I don’t know, that day I just lost it. I ran down the stairs, and I got a baseball bat out of the closet. It had been there forever, but...it was the first time I’d thought about it.”

Her hands are shaking. She can still feel the weight of the aluminum bat in her sweaty palms.

“And I picked it up, and I walked into the living room, and I said that if he ever touched anyone in that house again, I would kill him.”

She nods to herself, unconsciously. She can remember that feeling, that power.

“And I meant it. I really did.”

She takes a shaky breath, turning back to Lizzie. The kid is staring at her, eyes wide, tears streaking down her cheeks.

“So I get it,” she says gently, holding Lizzie’s gaze. “I do. I know what it feels like when someone who’s supposed to protect you hurts you instead, and I know what it feels like to want to kill him.”

Lizzie swipes the tears away. “But you didn’t kill him.”

“No,” Hailey says, her voice cracking. “I was lucky.”

Lizzie chokes down a sob. “He wasn’t gonna stop,” she gasps, and Hailey is overwhelmed by a wave of relief and guilt and fear.

“I know,” she whispers.

“And he -- I’d always been able to keep him away from the boys, but last week he hit Alex. I wasn’t going to let him do the same thing to them.”

Hailey nods, tears filling her eyes. “Lizzie, it’s okay. You did what you had to do.”

“I knew he had a gun,” Lizzie says, her words coming quickly and frantically now, like she can’t stop now that she’s started. “And I thought -- he’s gonna kill one of us one day. And so I just…”

When she doesn’t continue, Hailey finishes for her. “You shot him,” she says, her voice barely audible.

Lizzie nods. 

“He was asleep on the couch,” she sobs. “And I just thought -- this is my chance. I couldn’t fight him, so I just -- I couldn’t let him hurt Alex and Jamie.”

“I know,” Hailey chokes, brushing the tears away from her face, hoping her coworkers can’t see them.

“I had to get us out,” Lizzie says. Begs. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know,” Hailey says again.

Lizzie breaks down crying. Hailey does the only thing she can -- she moves her chair around the table, wraps her arms around the poor kid, and cries with her.

-o-o-

She stays with Lizzie until a lawyer finally shows up -- someone Hailey doesn’t know, but not someone from the public defenders’ office, which makes Hailey feel marginally better.

Marginally. 

Voight and Jay are waiting for her in the hallway, their expressions doing nothing to hide their worry. Hailey looks past both of them.

“You called her a lawyer?” she asks, her voice strained and hoarse. She concentrates on punching her code into the gun locker. 

“Yeah,” Voight says. “Someone I’ve worked with before. She’s good.”

He’s gentle. Too gentle. 

Hailey nods, focusing intently on holstering her gun. “Good. Thanks. Did they find the gun?”

She can feel them exchanging glances over her head. She ignores it. “No,” Jay says finally. “They searched the house, but…”

Hailey nods. “Okay.”

She tries to walk by them, but Voight stops her. “Hailey. You did the right thing.”

Hailey shakes her head. She will not cry in front of her boss. She won’t. “Did I?”

“Hailey--” Jay starts, and she glares at him. Not now.

He shuts up.

“We’re gonna figure it out, okay?” Voight says, steady and reassuring. “I’m gonna talk to the DA. Don’t write up your report yet.”

Hailey finally turns to look at him, confused. 

“Okay,” she says, too drained to do anything more.

-o-o-


	5. Chapter 5

Once again, all your reviews have been the highlight of my week. Very, very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy...

-o-o-

She’s tempted to not answer the door, to pretend she’s not home, that she’s asleep, that she’s passed out drunk.

But when the doorbell rings for the fourth time in five minutes, she knows he’s not going to go away.

So she splashes some water on her face, pulls herself into some semblance of togetherness, and opens the door, positioning herself so that he can’t come in.

He quickly schools his features into a smile. “Hey,” he says.

“Jay…” she sighs.

“Don’t shut me out,” he says quickly. “Please, Hailey.”

“I’m fine,” she says, though the tears flooding her eyes tell a dramatically different story. 

He looks at her with such tenderness that she loses it completely. “I’m fine,” she chokes again, as he takes a step towards her. She takes a step back, trying to keep him at a distance, trying...trying…

He wraps his arms around her and presses her face against his chest, and she falls apart. 

-o-o-

Rojas makes pancakes in the morning, and although the thought of food makes Hailey’s stomach turn, she appreciates the sentiment. 

“You get any sleep last night?” Vanessa asks, and Hailey shrugs, pushing the food absently around her plate. 

“Some,” she says, although even that is an exaggeration. All she could see was Lizzie’s bruised face.

It had been like looking into a mirror. 

“Jay was here pretty late,” Vanessa says innocently.

“Yeah, he was,” Hailey says, keeping her voice neutral. Vanessa smirks, and Hailey resists the urge to throw a pancake at her head. “Don’t start,” she warns.

“Start what?” Vanessa says. “Did something start?” 

Hailey can’t help laughing. It feels good, and she’s grateful. 

Vanessa pushes a bowl of strawberries across the table towards her. “At least eat some fruit, okay?”

Hailey smiles and takes one. She’s so thankful that this woman has come into her life. 

“She’s gonna be okay, Hailey,” Vanessa says gently, once Hailey’s eaten a strawberry. 

Hailey shrugs, the darkness settling over her again. “You know how the courts look at kids who kill their parents. They’re gonna charge her as an adult. She’s gonna go to jail for years, and...I mean, how is she supposed to survive that?”

“Voight’s already working on the ASA,” Vanessa says, and Hailey’s comforted by the optimism in her voice. “And that lawyer he brought in -- I asked around, and she’s really, really good.”

Hailey nods, eyes focused on her coffee. She tries to let her friend’s hopeful tone wash over her. 

“It’s just -- to go to prison after that, after everything she’s been through,” Hailey says haltingly. “I just…”

“I know,” Vanessa says gently. “But you can only do what you can do, right?”

“Yeah,” Hailey whispers. 

-o-o-

It’s quiet in the bullpen, now that the case is cleared. They haven’t caught a new one yet, and normally, Jay would welcome the chance to catch up on paperwork, to hopefully leave on time for a change. But today, he keeps glancing at the phone, wishing it would ring with something complicated but unemotional. He thinks Hailey could probably use the distraction.

He knows he could. 

She’d smiled at him when he’d walked in that morning, but they haven’t had a chance to talk. He’s aching to be alone with her.

There’s nothing to talk about, not really. She’d cried in his arms for nearly an hour, letting him run his fingers through her hair, his hands up and down her back. She’d been embarrassed after she’d finally calmed down, had apologized and told him it was late -- that they should both get some sleep. 

He’d wanted to push her. He’d wanted so badly to stay. Instead he’d kissed her on the forehead and he’d left. 

Nothing happened, nothing at all, and yet it feels like everything has shifted. 

Tonight, he thinks. Tonight he’s going to say something. Tonight they’re finally going to talk. 

“Jay, Hailey,” Voight calls from his office door, and Jay’s whole stomach sinks. His boss looks serious, worried.

He can’t take anymore of this. 

Jay closes the door behind them and sits wearily on the couch. Hailey stands frozen in the corner. Her whole body is rigid, tight, like she’s expecting a blow. 

“Look, there’s no easy way to say this, but -- we need to bring Lizzie back in,” Voight says. They’d been able to send her back to her foster home, to her brothers, the previous night, and Jay thinks that might be the only reason Hailey had been able to pull herself together to come in to work today. 

“They’re charging her?” Hailey confirms, numbly.

“Murder one,” Voight says. Jay flinches, but Hailey doesn’t react.

“As an adult,” Hailey says, although she already knows the answer. 

Voight nods. “Alana’s going to keep fighting to have her charged as a juvenile, and she’s very hopeful that we can get the case moved,” he says. “But for now, they wanna arraign her in adult court.”

“She gets held at a juvenile facility though, right?” Jay asks. “I mean -- she’s 16.”

“Yeah, but they won’t let her stay in foster care,” Voight says with a sigh. “They want her locked up.”

Jay’s heart sinks. Hailey barely moves. 

“Has anyone found the gun?” Jay asks.

“No,” Voight says. “They’re hoping we’ll be able to jog her memory on that.”

Hailey still hasn’t moved. Voight glances worriedly at Jay. 

“I can send Rojas and Burgess to go get her,” Voight offers. “But I thought--”

“No,” Hailey says. “I wanna go.” 

She glances at Jay, and for a moment he thinks she’s going to insist on going alone.

“We’ll go,” she corrects. “We’ll go bring her in.”

-o-o-

“I can do it if you want,” Jay says, as he stops the pickup outside of Lizzie’s foster home.

Hailey shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I’ve gotta do it.”

She takes a deep breath. Her chest hurts. 

She forces herself to open the door, to get out of the car.

To do this. 

Her hands are shaking, but she manages to knock on the door. She’s expecting to see Mrs. Matthews, but Lizzie answers. 

“Hailey,” she says, surprised. “Hi.

“Hey,” Hailey manages. Her voice doesn’t really seem to be working. “I need you to come with me.”

“Is everything okay?” Lizzie asks. 

Hailey shakes her head. “It’s -- gonna be okay,” she says hoarsely. She’s trying to sound reassuring, but she’s failing miserably. “But -- the ASA is filing charges. I’m so sorry, Lizzie.”

Lizzie nods slowly. Her eyes fill with tears. 

“I promise you, I’m gonna help you through this,” Hailey says. “Alana, your lawyer? I was looking into her, and she’s really good. If there’s anyone who can fix this, she can. I promise. She’s already working on getting the charges dropped, or at least having the case moved to juvenile court.”

“And if they’re not?” Lizzie manages. “If they -- if she can’t do that?”

“We’re going to figure this out,” Hailey says. Because if Alana can’t stop Lizzie from being tried as an adult...she doesn’t want to answer that question. “You were defending yourself, okay? You gotta remember that.”

“Okay,” Lizzie whispers. 

Hailey nods. Tries to smile. “Okay. So I’m gonna take you down to the district now. Alana’s going to meet us there, and we can talk about what happens next.”

“Okay,” Lizzie says numbly. “Let me just say goodbye to my brothers, okay?”

“Yeah,” Hailey whispers. 

She watches Lizzie disappear back into the house. Hailey wants to run after her, wants to tell her that it’s not goodbye, that she’ll be back, that they’ll all be okay, that someday this nightmare will be over. 

But she can’t. 

Lizzie’s back a few minutes later, dressed in a too-big puffy jacket. It makes her look even smaller, even younger. 

She follows Hailey out onto the neatly manicured front lawn. “Am I under arrest?” she asks. Her voice is quiet, calm. 

Hailey stops walking. “Yeah,” she says, and it’s hard to get the word out. “I’m so sorry, Lizzie. I tried, but -- the ASA put out a warrant, and…” 

Lizzie looks blank. Numb. 

“Listen to me,” Hailey says. “You are going to get through this. I promise you that. You were defending yourself. You were defending your little brothers. You didn’t do anything wrong, and the court is going to see that. It’s going to be okay.”

Hailey’s not sure she believes this, but she needs Lizzie to hold onto hope, she needs to get her to the district and through this horror in one piece. 

But she knows the statistics, knows that most of the time, kids who kill their parents go to jail. For years. 

She knows Voight is on this, knows he’ll do anything to protect Lizzie, but part of her wants to put Lizzie in the trunk of the car and drive her to Canada. 

“Yeah,” Lizzie says. “Listen, Hailey, I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be,” Hailey says, her own eyes filling with tears.

“No,” Lizzie says. “You tried so hard to help me. More than anyone ever has. And I -- I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m -- I’m really sorry. I just -- I don’t think I can go to jail.”

Hailey doesn’t understand. Not at all.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she says again, because it’s all she can say, but suddenly she realizes that Lizzie is pulling a gun out of her coat pocket with trembling hands.

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie says again. “I’m really sorry.” 

She’s crying now, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, and she looks desperate and panicked and so terribly lost and alone.

“Lizzie,” Hailey begs. “Please, please don’t. It’s gonna be okay. Please. You’re gonna get through this.”

She cannot watch this girl kill herself in front of her. She won’t survive that. 

“No,” Lizzie chokes. “I’m not.”

She’s just holding the gun, staring at it, like she’s not sure what to do with it. 

Hailey keeps her own gun in her holster, takes a step towards the scared teenager. “Lizzie, look at me, please.”

She hears Jay get out of the car. 

“Stay away!” Lizzie shrieks.

“Lizzie, put the gun down,” Jay says.

Lizzie raises her gun, points it directly at Hailey.

Hailey sucks in a breath, immediately raising her hands. Her heart is pounding, and she knows what Lizzie’s trying to do. “You don’t have to do this,” she says desperately.

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie cries. “I’m so sorry.”

“If you shoot me, he’s going to shoot you,” she chokes.

“I know,” Lizzie whispers.

“Put the gun down!” Jay yells, and she can feel him moving closer. “Don’t make me do this!”

“Jay,” Hailey says. She wishes she could turn and look at him, but she can’t take her eyes off Lizzie. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t.”

She thinks of her bulletproof vest, sitting in the backseat of their car, just a few feet away. She’d left it there deliberately, not wanting to seem threatening, not wanting to scare Lizzie.

She regrets that now, if only because she knows it will make Jay just a little bit more jumpy, a little bit quicker to pull the trigger. 

“I messed everything up,” Lizzie sobs. “I can’t -- I just…”

“Lizzie, look at me,” Hailey begs. “Look at me.”

Lizzie shakes her head, swiping the sleeve of her coat across her eyes. 

“Lizzie, please,” Hailey begs. “Please. I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

“I don’t,” Lizzie chokes, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m so sorry.”

“Then don’t do this. It’s going to be okay. You don’t need to do this.”

Lizzie shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

-o-o-

Hailey hears rather than feels the gunshots. They’re deafening, echoing in her ears over and over and over again, long after the sounds themselves have faded. One-two, in quick succession.

Bang. Bang.

She’s on the ground, the grass damp and cold beneath her fingertips. The sky above her is grey and gloomy, and for a second, all she can focus on is that it’s not raining. 

Everything feels wet, the chilly moisture seeping into her bones -- so how could it not be raining?

“Hailey!” someone is screaming. “Hailey!”

Bang. Bang. 

“Hailey!”

It’s Jay’s voice, she realizes, and her partner’s face is now hovering over hers, blocking her view of the thick dark clouds. 

“Oh, my God,” he gasps. “Stay with me, Hailey. Look at me. Look at me!”

She tries, but her eyes won’t seem to focus.

“50-21 George, my partner’s been shot!” Jay yells. “Officer down! Oh, God, Hailey, stay with me! Please, stay with me.”

There’s a blast of cold air, and she shivers. Jay’s unzipping her coat, shoving the fabric out of the way, and she wants it back. “I’m cold,” she says, and her voice sounds thin and weak and weird -- she barely recognizes it as her own.

“I know,” Jay says, and he’s crying, a tear landing on her cheek. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s gonna be okay, Hailey, please, just hang on.”

She feels his hands pressing hard against her chest, but no pain. All she feels is cold.

“I need an ambo right now!” Jay screams, and she isn’t sure if he’s talking to her. 

“Lizzie,” she remembers. She tries to sit up, but Jay holds her down.

“Shhh, shhh,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Hailey.”

She wants to tell him not to shush her, but she suddenly feels like she’s holding her breath underwater and she can’t seem to swim up. “Jay,” she manages, but then his face fades away.


	6. Chapter 6

I sound like a broken record, but thank you all for your lovely comments -- I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. Hope this chapter doesn’t disappoint! 

-o-o-

Her heart stops in the ambulance.

They’re still three minutes away from Chicago Med, and three minutes, Jay knows, is an eternity. 

Hailey might not have three minutes. 

His hands are covered in her blood, but he still keeps one of her hands clutched between them. She’s freezing cold, which terrifies him, but he feels like if he can just hold onto her tightly enough, he can keep her there, in this world, with him.

“Hang on Hailey,” he begs. “Please, hang on.”

He thinks, absurdly, about telling her that he loves her. 

“Step on it, Foster, we’re losing her!” Sylvie yells. “And tell Med we’re coming in hot!”

“Hailey, please,” he begs. “Please.”

“Jay, I need you to back up!” Sylvie says urgently, shouting to be heard over the monitors and the sirens and the chaos. She stabs a syringe into Hailey’s arm. “Now!”

He does. But he doesn’t let go of her hand. 

-o-o-

They roll the gurney into the ED with Sylvie straddling Hailey’s prone body, desperately pounding on her chest. “32-year-old female, gunshot wound to the chest!” Emily shouts, as they race down the corridor. “Intubated on scene. She crashed in the rig four minutes ago.”

“Okay, let’s get to Baghdad,” Maggie says. She’s calm, like this is a normal day, like everything’s fine, and Jay doesn’t understand it. 

This is the worst day of his life. How is the world still running, still going through its ordinary motions?

“Jay!” Ruzek shouts. He’s running down the hallway towards them, his face a sickening mask of shock and terror. Vanessa is right behind him. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

“Guys, step back, please!” Maggie orders. Calm. In control. 

Jay’s head feels like it might spin off his body. He can barely hear his teammates, can barely hear Maggie. 

They wheel Hailey into the trauma room, and a nurse Jay doesn’t recognize holds out a hand to stop him from coming in.

She closes the curtains. 

“What?” Adam gasps, looking from the trauma room, to Jay, to Maggie, standing in the hallway with them. “What happened? What happened?” His voice rises in pitch. 

Jay can’t seem to find words. His brain isn’t working properly. “Lizzie,” he manages. “Lizzie, she…”

She shot Hailey. 

He can’t finish the sentence. 

He’s suddenly certain he’s going to throw up, and he hunches over, propping his hands on his knees to keep himself from falling over.

“What happened?” Adam demands again, yelling at Jay, at Maggie, at anyone who will listen. 

“Ruzek, I need you to calm down,” Maggie says firmly. “You’re not helping anything.”

“I’m calm, I’m calm,” Adam says. “I’m calm.”

Jay closes his eyes. His head spins, and he focuses on not falling over. Someone puts a hand on his back, and he thinks it’s supposed to be soothing, but nothing could possibly be soothing at this moment. 

“Hailey was shot in the chest,” Maggie says, her voice low and steady. 

The sound that comes out of Adam’s mouth is almost inhuman. 

-o-o-

Will takes Jay to the doctors’ lounge. He helps him clean the blood off his face and hands, gives him a shirt to change into. He pours him a cup of coffee, which Jay doesn’t drink, and hands him some sort of muffin, which Jay doesn’t eat. 

Jay sits in the surgical waiting room with the rest of the intelligence unit and a whole bunch of uniforms he barely recognizes, holding the full cup of coffee in one hand and the untouched muffin in the other. Voight takes the chair next to him, tries to ask him what happened. Jay can only stare at him blankly. Words go in one ear and out the other. 

Will leaves to get an update from the operating room. He comes back to tell them that the surgeons are still working on her. That it could be a few more hours. 

He suggests that they all go home and get some rest. Jay isn’t sure if that’s intended to be a joke. No one moves.

Trudy comes to sit beside him, in the chair that Voight has vacated. She murmurs something about how Hailey is a fighter. Jay isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or to herself. He nods absently. 

She’s a fighter, but she got shot in the chest.

Kevin takes the cold coffee and the muffin from his hands.

Will comes back with another update. Still in surgery. Still alive. It could be a few more hours. 

Burgess goes down to the cafeteria to get everyone coffee and muffins.

Jay doesn’t move.

-o-o-

It’s the middle of the night, or early in the morning, or possibly later the next day -- there’s no window in the waiting room, and time has ceased to mean anything -- when Dr. Marcel finally comes in. His face is grave, and his scrubs are covered in blood, and Jay immediately assumes the worst.

He can’t get out of his chair.

“No,” Vanessa chokes.

“She’s alive,” Dr. Marcel says, but he doesn’t sound enthusiastic or optimistic about that.

Jay waits for the other shoe to drop. 

“Is she gonna be okay, doc?” Voight asks, when he doesn’t say anything else.

“She’s in critical condition,” Marcel says slowly. “We haven’t been able to fully stabilize her, and she’s definitely going to need another surgery. We’re hoping if she can make it through the next 24 hours, she’ll be strong enough for us to go back in.”

The room is silent. 

“Is she gonna be okay?” Voight asks again, more firmly this time.

“I can’t say for sure,” Marcel says. “We’re doing everything we can.”

No one reacts.

Jay feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Thanks, Doc,” Trudy says finally. “Please keep us updated.”

Marcel nods. “You all should go home,” he says. “She’s not going to be able to have visitors for at least a few hours.”

“Has someone called her parents?” Kim asks quietly.

“No,” Jay says harshly. “Don’t call her parents. Nobody calls her parents.”

Everyone turns to look at him. 

“Go home, everyone,” Marcel says again. “I’ll call when I have an update.”

He trudges out of the room, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

No one moves.

-o-o-

Jay jolts awake, nearly screams at the pain in his neck.

“What?” he gasps.

“Sorry,” Platt’s voice says. “Jay, you with me?”

He stumbles out of the chair. “What happened?” he croaks. His head swims, and he nearly falls over. Platt’s hand steadies him. 

“Everything’s okay,” she says, her voice low and soothing. “Hailey’s okay.”

He closes his eyes, waits for the dizziness to pass. 

“What happened?” he asks again.

“The nurse came in, she said that Hailey’s stabilized a bit,” Platt says, and there’s another wave of dizziness that Jay interprets as relief. “They’re going to try to take her back into surgery in about two hours or so, but in the meantime, you can go sit with her.”

Jay’s eyes fill with tears, and he grips Trudy’s hand tightly. “Thank you,” he chokes. 

“She’s gonna be okay,” Platt says, and he thinks she really does believe that. “You’ve gotta hang on to that.”

-o-o-

She doesn’t look like herself.

That’s all he can think as he stands in the doorway of the ICU, staring at her. 

She’s swollen and puffy, and her eyes are taped shut. There are tubes and wires hooked to every exposed inch of her, and a tube protruding from her mouth. Her hospital gown is spotted with blood. 

He swallows a sob. 

Vanessa is sitting in the chair by Hailey’s bedside, but when she sees him, she gets up, wipes her sleeve across her eyes, and gestures toward it. 

“Thanks,” he manages, as she slips out of the room. 

His legs are shaking, and he lets himself collapse into the chair. Her skin is so pale it’s practically grey, her blonde hair tangled and matted to her head. 

“Hailey,” he whispers, but she doesn’t respond. 

He’s afraid to touch her, but he also needs to, desperately, and so he picks up her hand, holding it in both of his the way he had in the ambulance. It had kept her alive then, and maybe it will keep working now.

The tears drip down his face, onto their clasped hands. He doesn’t bother wiping them away.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes. “Hailey, I’m so sorry.”

The sobs come hard and fast, wracking his whole body. He doesn’t try to stop them.

-o-o-

Will is waiting for him at the door to the surgical wing, after they roll Hailey’s gurney through, after he loses sight of her again.

“Go home,” his brother says. “It’s gonna be hours.”

Jay barely even hears him. His feet automatically take him back to the waiting room, like they’re not even connected to his body. 

“Jay,” Will sighs, but he lets him go.

The waiting room is quieter now -- just a few uniforms, Atwater, Rojas, and Voight. Jay sits back down in the chair he’d spent the night in. His eyes zone in and out on the light blue wall.

“Jay,” his boss’s gravelly voice says. “Halstead.”

Jay turns to look at him, eyes drifting in and out of focus. He can barely keep his head up.

“Will’s gonna drive you home,” Voight says, and Jay turns away.

“No.”

“That’s an order,” Voight says. 

“No,” Jay says again, the tears pricking at his eyes. God, he’s so fucking tired.

“Jay,” Voight says calmly. “Marcel says this surgery’s going to be long. Maybe eight to ten hours. Go home. Take a shower, get some sleep, get something to eat. When it’s over, you can come back and sit with her.”

The thought of being outside of this hospital fills Jay with a kind of paralyzing terror. What if she dies and he’s not here?

He looks around the room, desperate for help, a way out, anything. He sees Rojas and Atwater in the corner. Vanessa looks a lot like he feels, her face puffy and streaked with tears.

“How come they get to stay?” he asks, like a petulant child.

Voight, for some reason, doesn’t yell at him. “We’re taking shifts. Ruzek, Burgess, and Platt went home to get some sleep, and they’re going to come back tonight.”

Jay closes his eyes. His head swims. 

“You promise you’ll call me if anything happens?” he says finally. 

“I promise,” Voight says. “Anything at all.”

“I don’t want her to be alone,” he adds, his voice thick. 

“She won’t be,” Voight says.

“C’mon,” Will says from the doorway. Jay hadn’t even realized he was still there. 

And just like a little kid following his big brother home from the playground, Jay trails Will out the door. 

-o-o-


	7. Chapter 7

Guys. Your reviews are pretty much the highlight of my (anxiety-riddled, self-isolated) days. I hope you’re all getting through everything okay. 

-o-o-

She’s in pain.

That’s the only thing she’s aware of. The only thing that matters. Pain is eating its way through her chest, burrowing deep into her heart and lungs, shredding through her flesh and bone. It’s all-encompassing, all-consuming. She can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, but she can feel agony.

Hailey has been hurt before. Pain is not an unfamiliar sensation. But this. 

This.

This is something else. This is wrong. Unfair. Inhumane. She hasn’t done anything to deserve this.

She tries to move. Tries to put pressure on the pain, tries to push it away, but she can’t. Her limbs won’t budge, her hands don’t work. 

So she screams. And screams. And screams. Somebody has to help her. Somebody has to fix this.

She’s not brave enough to handle this. 

She screams until everything disappears.

-o-o-

Jay walks into Hailey’s room to find Vanessa sitting by her side, holding her hand, staring blankly at Hailey’s still face. Vanessa’s eyes are red and puffy, her cheeks tearstained, and she looks like she’s gotten about as much sleep as Jay has over these past few days.

“Hey,” he says, and Vanessa startles. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s -- don’t worry about it.”

Jay pulls the second chair up to the side of the bed and takes his seat. “She wake up again?” he asks.

He would never, ever have left her side, especially not after she’d woken up the night before, confused and scared and screaming, but Voight had instituted a mandatory 12 hours home after 36 hours in the hospital for both him and Rojas. He’s threatened to fire them both if they don’t comply.

Jay doesn’t think he’d actually go through with it, but he doesn’t have enough energy to argue. 

It’s not like going home is helping him in any way. He’d spent the twelve hour exile lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, checking for texts every 90 seconds.

Hailey’s weak, agonized screams had echoed in his ears. 

Will had reassured him that it was fine, that it was normal, that it was a sign she was starting to wake up. Jay’s not sure he believes that. 

“No,” Vanessa says hoarsely. “They upped the pain medication and the sedatives, so they said it could be a while.”

Jay picks up Hailey’s hand, holds it tightly. Her skin is cold. 

“Where’s everyone else?” he asks. 

“Voight got called into the Ivory Tower,” Vanessa says. “Burgess went with him, and Ruzek and Atwater are both home. I think Platt’s around somewhere.”

Jay hopes they didn’t get called in on a case. There’s no possible way he could work right now. 

And if anyone thinks he’s leaving Hailey alone, they’re out of their mind.

Vanessa laughs, and Jay looks at her. What could possibly be funny?

“You two,” she says, shaking her head.

“I don’t get it,” Jay says. 

Vanessa studies his face, and he wonders what she can see. He knows he’s not doing a very good job of hiding his emotions, but he’s too tired to even try.

“I’ll tell you what I told her,” Vanessa says gently. “It’s hard because you love her.”

Jay suddenly finds it difficult to breathe. 

“What do you mean, what you told her?” Jay asks. His throat is tight.

“Look, it’s none of my business,” Vanessa says, in that no-nonsense way Jay likes about her. “You two gotta talk. But if you’re both gonna keep getting shot like this, you probably should do it soon.”

He thinks she’s trying to make a joke, or at least lighten the mood, but he can’t find it in him to even smile. His chest tightens, and for the first time in months, the scar on his shoulder throbs. 

When you were in surgery, no one knew what was going to happen. And I realized there was something I wanted to tell you.

He looks at Hailey’s still face. The breathing tube has been replaced by a nasal cannula, and she looks slightly more relaxed, slightly more at peace. 

In less pain, at the very least. 

He wants her to wake up more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life, but when she does, he’s going to have to tell her what happened. 

“I don’t think she’s gonna forgive me,” he says, voice catching. 

“Of course she will,” Vanessa says. 

Jay shakes his head. 

“Jay,” Vanessa says, and she waits until he finally looks at her. “If it was the other way around, would you forgive her?”

“Yeah,” he says, without hesitation, because of course he would, because he’d forgive Hailey anything.

Because he loves her. 

-o-o-

There’s a light shining directly in her eyes. It’s making her crazy.

Hailey groans, trying to turn away from the light, wishing someone would turn it off. 

Is she with Jay? Did Jay turn a light on? Why would he do that?

But wait…

Is she sleeping with Jay? She doesn’t remember sleeping with Jay. 

She’s going to be pretty pissed if she’s forgotten about that. 

“Hailey,” someone whispers. “Hailey, can you open your eyes?”

She doesn’t think it’s Jay -- which is a little concerning, because who is she in bed with? -- but it doesn’t matter at this moment. She’s certainly not opening her eyes, not with this light.

“Hailey,” the voice says again. A woman, she thinks. “Hey, you’re safe, okay? It’s okay.”

She didn’t think she wasn’t safe, so that statement also worries her. 

Normally, she’d be curious. She’s a detective. She usually wants answers.

But her head feels like it’s floating above her body, and the light shining in her face is painful, and someone is holding her hand and that actually feels kind of nice, so she lets it all go. 

She keeps her eyes closed. She drifts along.

-o-o-

Her eyes open without permission from her brain.

She wishes they hadn’t, but it’s too late to close them now. 

“Hailey!” Jay says, hovering over her. “Hi. Hey, you’re okay.”

She doesn’t move, letting her eyes slowly take in her surroundings. She’s in a hospital room, the institutional fluorescent lights overhead causing an instant, stabbing headache. There’s a tube in her nose, and wires seemingly all over her body. 

And she’s freezing. 

“I’m cold,” she manages. Her voice comes out a hoarse, harsh croak. 

“Okay,” Jay says. “Okay. Let me see if they can bring you more blankets.”

He presses a button behind the bed, then sits down in a chair beside her.

“How are you feeling?” Jay asks. He sounds stuffy and sad, like he has a cold.

Hailey tries to turn towards him, tries to see what’s wrong, but pain explodes through her entire body, and she can’t help crying out.

“Oh, God, okay,” Jay chokes. “Sorry, sorry.”

There’s a whole flurry of people in the room, suddenly, and Hailey feels a strange flash of fear. 

And then it’s gone.

-o-o-

Jay’s dozing in and out, one hand propping up his head, the other clutching Hailey’s, when Adam comes in. 

He jumps, banging his knee on the hospital bed. Fuck.

“Sorry,” Ruzek says. “Sorry, man.”

Jay rubs the sleep out of his eyes, shakes his head. “What’s up?”

Ruzek looks almost embarrassed. “It’s, uh -- it’s almost 8:00,” he says. 

Jay sighs. Dammit. 

He looks down at Hailey’s still face, then back up at Adam. His teammate is also looking at Hailey, the pain evident on his face, and he remembers that Adam and Hailey dated for months, that Ruzek still seems to care deeply for her. 

Adam catches him staring, offers him a weak smile. 

“Scary shit, huh man?” he says, shrugging it off. 

Jay nods, because there’s not much more to say. 

He pushes himself out of his chair, his muscles protesting loudly. “You gonna stay with her?” he checks, before he leaves.

“Yeah,” Adam says, laying his jacket at the foot of the bed. “Platt said she’d come by at some point, but I’ll stay.”

“You sure?” Jay says. “Because if you’re not, I can call Vanessa, or Kim. I just really don’t want--”

“Jay,” Ruzek reassures. “I promise. I’m not gonna leave her alone.”

Jay looks at Hailey again. She’s still asleep, still motionless.

He wants to kiss her forehead, to promise her he’ll be back.

Instead, he smiles at Ruzek. “Thanks.”

And he leaves, setting the timer on his phone for twelve hours.

He doesn’t want to be gone a second longer than he has to.

-o-o-

The next time she opens her eyes, Sergeant Platt is in the chair. 

“What’re you guys, taking turns?” she mutters grumpily. Her brain is cloudy with pain and painkillers, with anger and fear, with guilt and grief, and she can’t manage to filter her words. 

But Platt doesn’t react to her tone. “We didn’t want you to be alone,” she says, and Hailey’s eyes fill with tears again.

She’s not sure if she wants to be alone. She thinks she probably doesn’t. But she can’t fight the impulse to push her friends away anyway.

“Where’s Jay?” she asks through gritted teeth. 

“He went home,” Trudy tells her. “Just for a little bit. He’ll be back. He -- Voight ordered him to go get some sleep.”

Hailey’s brain is fuzzy. She can’t quite figure out what Platt is talking about. 

But then…

“Lizzie,” she says, her stomach flipping. She was with Lizzie. 

“Dr. Marcel should be in in a few minutes,” Platt says, ignoring her. “He’ll be glad to see you awake for once.”

Hailey stares at her blankly. For once? “How long have I been here?” she asks.

Talking hurts, and she wishes Platt would just tell her these things so she didn’t have to ask.

“It’s been almost a week,” Trudy says gently, and Hailey’s eyes widen.

A week? That can’t be possible. She’s only been here a few hours. A day at most. 

“You were shot in the chest,” Trudy continues. “There’ve been three surgeries, but Dr. Marcel said this morning that everything is looking good.”

Hailey gapes at her. None of this makes any sense.

“Jay?” she manages. 

“Jay’s fine,” Trudy says. She picks up Hailey’s hand, holds it tightly. Hailey hangs on for dear life. “Everyone’s fine, okay?”

“Wait,” Hailey says, her eyes filling with tears. “Wait, I -- did Jay...is Lizzie…?”

She can’t get the words out. She’s not even sure what she’s asking.

“Shh,” Trudy says, stroking Hailey’s hair away from her face. “Everything’s okay.”

She wants to press harder. But Dr. Marcel walks in, and Trudy steps out, and Hailey is alone.

-o-o-

When she wakes up again, the pain is still there, spread throughout her chest, but it’s duller, more settled. It feels less like she’s being stabbed, and more like a stone has settled into her ribcage, rubbing against her heart with each beat.

It feels more like a permanent part of her, a chronic condition rather than an acute injury.

Jay is sitting in the chair beside her again, staring into space. She tries to say hi, but it comes out as a grunt.

He startles, then smiles. “Hey, you’re awake,” he says, leaning over towards her. “How’re you feeling?”

Terrible. But she shrugs, the movement sending a spike through her chest that makes her grimace.

Jay smiles sympathetically. “Yeah,” he says. “Will says you’re maxed out on pain meds right now. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” she manages. Breathing is too hard. And -- “Cold.”

Jay looks worried. “I’ll text Kim, okay? See if she can get you another blanket. She’s just outside talking to Voight.”

“What happened?” she manages, trying to take her mind away from the cold, the pain. 

“What do you remember?” Jay asks. 

She vaguely remembers Lizzie. A gun. Wet grass. Gray clouds. Jay’s face.

“Lizzie,” she whispers. She closes her eyes. She already knows.

“I’m so sorry, Hailey,” Jay says gently. “She didn’t make it.”

“You shot her?” Hailey manages. Tears fill her eyes. They sting. 

“She shot you,” Jay says. 

Hailey turns away. She doesn’t want to hear anymore.

-o-o-


	8. Chapter 8

You are all the best! It makes me so happy (and gives me so much confidence!) to know that everyone is enjoying the story. Hope everyone is safe and healthy!!

-o-o-

Hailey’s life has become short periods of agitated wakefulness, followed by long periods of agitated sleep. 

The pain is a near-constant companion, accompanying her at all times of day and night, through sleep and consciousness. It comes in ebbs and flows, throbbing and stabbing, dull and sharp and every variation in between.

She welcomes it. 

It gives her something to focus on, something to distract her from the horrifying mental image of Lizzie, bleeding out alone on the wet grass. She hadn’t seen it, but in a way, that makes it worse. It forces her to imagine it, to run through all the possible ways it had happened. 

Had she died instantly? Had she been scared? Had she cried, or screamed, or called out for her brothers...or for Hailey?

Hailey doesn’t relive what happened to her, not ever, but she sees the bullet hitting Lizzie’s chest over and over and over again, asleep or awake. When she’s asleep, she tries to fix it; when she’s awake, she knows that she’s already failed. 

She’s failed everybody, everything. 

When she can’t manage to stay awake, which is most of the time, the nightmares are a near constant. Hailey’s no stranger to bad dreams, but now, between the pain medicine and her injuries, and the sheer exhaustion that seems to follow three open heart surgeries in the span of three days, she can’t seem to wake up out of them. She’s trapped in a constant state of terror. 

There are moments when she wishes she’d died. A lot of moments. 

-o-o-

Hailey doesn’t even look at him when he walks into her room, although Vanessa does, her eyes filled with worry. 

She’s been solidly awake now for nearly three days, and she seems to be drifting further and further away from them. From him. 

He tries to sound light, cheerful. “I brought breakfast!” he says, holding up the paper bag he’s carrying. “Loukoumades from Artopolis.”

Vanessa forces cheer too. “Loukou-what?” she says, with a strained laugh.

“Greek doughnuts,” Jay says, setting the box on the tray table. He glances at Hailey. She hasn’t reacted at all -- she’s awake, but it’s like she’s not even there. “Hailey hasn’t gotten you these before?” he asks.

“No she definitely has not,” Vanessa says with exaggerated mock annoyance, but her face falls, and she can’t keep up the act. 

She glances at Jay again, then leans over Hailey and squeezes her hand. “You wanna sit up a little? Eat some doughnuts? Dr. Marcel said it was okay to try some solid foods today.”

“I’m not hungry,” Hailey says, her eyes never straying from the wall. Her voice is so flat, so empty that Jay shivers. 

He glances at Vanessa again. She looks like she’s about to cry. 

He sits down in the chair next to the bed. Hailey doesn’t look at him. 

“Do you wanna maybe watch a movie or something?” he asks hopefully. “Or I think the Blackhawks played last night. We could probably find it on YouTube.”

“You guys should go to work,” Hailey says, in that same numb, empty voice. “I’m really fine.”

Jay tries to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. The loukoumades sit untouched on the tray table. 

-o-o-

“Was she like that all night?” Jay asks Vanessa in the hallway. Hailey’s asleep again -- she can rarely stay awake for more than an hour -- but he doesn’t want to risk waking her.

He knows she’d be furious if she knew they were talking about her like this.

Vanessa shakes her head, and he thinks it’s a yes. She looks distraught.

“She -- yeah, she…” Vanessa stops, takes a shaky breath. “She was having nightmares, all night, and she’s -- I know she’s in a ton of pain, but when I asked, she just...she won’t even look at me, she’s just totally checked out.”

Jay’s bullet wound throbs. He rubs it absently. 

“Maybe it’s the pain,” he says, almost hopefully. “Maybe if they could just get her on something a little stronger, just till she heals a bit.”

He knows that’s not true. 

And Vanessa does too. “Dr. Charles came in last night,” she says. “She wouldn’t look at him either. Jay, it’s like she’s totally gone.”

“I’ll talk to her,” he says. “I’ll…”

He doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

He thinks of that night -- could it have been only a week ago? -- when she’d cried in his arms. He thinks of the next morning when he’d promised himself he’d talk to her, that he wouldn’t let her shut him out anymore. 

He thinks of the way she’d sat across the table from him at that bar and told him that she’d wished for someone like him to save her.

It feels like a lifetime ago. 

-o-o-

She’s seventeen-years-old again, standing in the living room of her parents’ house, watching as her father wraps his hands around her mother’s neck, and she’s screaming and screaming and screaming. This time, she doesn’t walk away, this time she picks up the bat and she comes right at him and she hits him. She hits him over and over and over again, and there’s blood everywhere, all over his head and the bat and her face and her hands.

There’s blood all over her hands.

“Hailey!” a voice says. “”Hailey!”

It’s Jay, she thinks, she knows that voice, and she turns around, but he’s holding a gun, and it’s pointed right at her. “Jay, don’t!” she screams.

“Hailey!”

She hears the gunshots again -- bang, bang -- and suddenly she’s lying on the cold wet grass, and she’s freezing, she’s freezing, and pain is ricocheting through her chest, her entire body, and she’s staring up at the gray sky, and it isn’t raining for some reason, but this time Jay’s face doesn’t block out the sky, this time she just stares up at it, waiting to die.

This time she’s all alone. 

She wakes up screaming, as loudly and frantically as her damaged lungs will allow. 

“Hey, hey, Hailey,” Jay says, and his face is hovering over hers. He tries to press his palm to her cheek, and -- she can’t help it -- she jerks violently away, the movement sending agony through her chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he sounds like he’s crying too, but she can’t look at him, not now. “Shit, Hailey, I’m sorry.”

She tries to roll onto her side, tries to curl up into a ball, but she’s too weak to move, and so she settles for turning her face away and crying until she passes out again. 

-o-o-

It’s been twelve days since Hailey was shot, six since she fully regained consciousness. The rest of the team has slowly trickled back to work. Voight, Ruzek, Burgess, Atwater, even Rojas.

Only Jay has been unable to tear himself away from Hailey’s bedside, even though he’s not totally sure she wants him there. And while he tells himself that he can’t leave her to face the nightmares alone, that he can’t let her push him away, he knows he’s really staying for him. 

He can’t face the thought of losing her. 

She’s sinking into a deep, dark hole, he knows, and if she’d been spiraling down before the shooting, now she’s tumbling head first. He’s not sure if she blames him for Lizzie’s death -- but he’s pretty sure she blames herself, and that feels worse. 

So when Voight stops by to visit, when he casually asks what Jay’s plans are, Jay says the only thing he can -- he isn’t leaving her. 

Voight looks concerned, but nods. 

“Take as much time as you need,” he says. 

-o-o-

Hailey’s chest is absolutely on fire when she wakes up. She tries to shift positions, but all it does is make it worse.

“Hey, hey,” Jay says gently, and she’s been pushing him to go back to work, but she’s so, so thankful that he’s here. “You’re okay,” he says, and the sound of his voice is soothing. “Just relax, okay? You’re okay.”

“It hurts,” she manages, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. 

“I know,” he says, smoothing his thumb over her forehead. “Shh, shh, just breathe. Just breathe.”

She tries to, tries to choke back the sobs that are threatening to overwhelm her. Jay laces his fingers through hers and squeezes, then presses his lips to her forehead. 

“What can I do?” he whispers.

“Just talk to me,” she chokes. “Please, just...anything.”

He smiles at her, smoothing her hair back gently. “Did I ever tell you about the time my buddy Mouse and I went to Hawaii?” he asks.

She shakes her head, her eyes fixed on his. “Well, it was not exactly a well thought-out trip,” he says with a laugh.

She lets herself drown in his eyes and his voice until she’s finally sleeping again.

-o-o-

She wakes up to find Vanessa at her bedside, reading on her iPad. The pain is duller now, but her head is foggy, and she’s not sure if that’s a whole lot better. 

Her friend’s whole face lights up when she sees that Hailey is awake. “Hey,” she says. “How are you feeling?”

For some reason, Hailey’s eyes fill with tears. “I wanna go home,” she manages. 

Vanessa smiles sympathetically. “I know,” she says. “They think it’s gonna be a few more days.”

“Why?” Hailey says, and she knows she’s whimpering, but she feels terrible, and all she wants is to be in her own bed. 

“They’re worried about infection, I think,” Vanessa says. “I’m not sure. I can ask the nurse to come in, if you want.”

“No,” Hailey sighs, shifting uncomfortably. She feels a sudden, petulant urge to whine, to point out that Jay got to go home after two days. “Where’s Jay?” she asks. 

“He’s having dinner with Will in the cafeteria,” Vanessa says. “I can call him if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Hailey says.

Although...it isn’t. For some reason, not having Jay here is making her heart beat just a little quicker, it’s making breathing just a little bit more difficult. 

She doesn’t understand that at all.

“You guys talk?” Vanessa asks. 

“Nothing to talk about,” Hailey says through gritted teeth. 

Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “You gonna pull that with me?”

“Vanessa,” Hailey sighs. She doesn’t have the energy to fight about this now. It’s all she can do to just keep her eyes open. 

“Just listen to me,” Vanessa says. “You don’t even have to talk. I don’t wanna get in your business, but my God, Hailey, life is short.”

“Don’t,” Hailey says, through gritted teeth, but Vanessa ignores her.

“The man is in love with you, Hailey,” she says, and Hailey flinches. “I know that for whatever reason, you don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. And you’re in love with him, so I don’t understand the problem.”

Hailey closes her eyes. She blames it on the painkillers, but there are those pesky tears again. 

“You gotta let him in,” Vanessa says gently, wiping away Hailey’s tears with her thumb. “You need each other.”

“I don’t know how,” Hailey chokes, wincing at the pain that ricochets through her chest. 

Because she doesn’t. Jay terrifies her. Hailey has spent her entire life building walls, guarding her emotions, keeping people out. She has made sure that no one -- no one -- could ever get close enough to hurt her. 

She’d tried with Jay. She really, really had. But when he’d picked up his phone to answer that call, right after she’d finally worked up the courage to be vulnerable, to let him in, she’d known that she couldn’t. That eventually, he’d end up breaking her heart.

And she just can’t.

It had been easier, with Adam. She’d cared about him, that hadn’t been a lie, but he would never have been able to hurt her. Not like Jay can. 

The one thing Hailey had learned from her childhood was that if you love someone with your whole heart, they will hurt you. Even if they don’t mean to. Even if they say they’ll never do it again, that they’ll be better this time. 

She won’t go through it again.

She can’t.

-o-o-

Jay jolts awake in the middle of the night, not sure what happened. His head is pillowed on his arms on the side of Hailey’s bed, where he’s been sleeping for the last week. The room is dark and quiet, and Hailey seems to be asleep, the monitors beeping steadily in the background. He tries to remember if he’s had a nightmare, tries to figure out what could have woken him.

And then he realizes that Hailey is crying quietly. 

“Hey,” he says gently, reaching over to stroke his thumb over her temple. It seems to make her relax, and lately, it’s the only way she’ll allow him to comfort her. “You okay?”

Hailey doesn’t look at him. “Did she die instantly?” she asks, her voice thick with tears. 

The question hits him like a punch in the stomach. 

He wants to say yes. Wants to tell her that Lizzie didn’t suffer, that it was quick. But the truth is -- he has no idea. He hadn’t even spared Lizzie a glance after he’d fired -- all he’d been able to focus on was Hailey’s body crumpling to the ground. 

He knows one of the paramedics had checked, knows that Lizzie had been dead by the time they’d arrived on scene. But he doesn’t know how to answer Hailey’s question.

He debates lying -- but he knows she’ll see right through him. 

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “She was gone by the time the paramedics got there.”

Hailey nods, as if she’d been expecting that answer. She tries to use the sleeve of her hospital gown to wipe away her tears, but she’s too weak to really move.

He does it for her. 

“Do you think she was scared?” she whispers. “Did she scream?”

Jay struggles to breathe. He keeps rubbing his thumb across Hailey’s forehead, slowly, steadily. “I don’t know,” he says. “I hope not.”

Hailey sniffles. 

“I can’t stop seeing her face,” she says, her voice barely audible. 

Jay doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to help her. 

He sits with her until she falls asleep again.

-o-o-


	9. Chapter 9

Hope you’ve all made it through the week okay!! As always, your comments give me life! Stay safe everyone!

-o-o-

He feels a strange sense of deja vu when he shows up at Hailey’s hospital room to finally, finally bring her home. He can still see the shy smile on her face as she’d stepped forward to help him pull his hoodie on over the sling, the hope in her eyes. 

It made me realize there was something I wanted to tell you.

That hope is gone now. Hailey’s eyes are flat and dull and empty, and she barely even glances at him as he walks in the door. She’s sitting in the chair, hunched over, and he can see just from her body language how much pain she’s in. 

She’s grown increasingly distant over the last few days, and he’s grown increasingly desperate to get her out of this hospital. If she’s home, at least, in her own bed, with good food and familiar surroundings, then maybe he can make everything okay. 

“You ready to go?” he asks cheerfully, and she startles, then hisses in pain, and he realizes she wasn’t ignoring him -- just off in that faraway world she disappears into now, where no one seems to be able to reach her. 

“Yeah,” she says numbly. 

She tries to get out of the chair, but she can’t. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says, stepping up. He expects her to argue, to protest that she can do it on her own, but she doesn’t say a word as he eases her out of the chair.

It’s like all the fight has gone out of her.

-o-o-

Jay goes back to work after she comes home, but Dr. Marcel tells Hailey that he won’t even be able to clear her for desk duty for at least six weeks. It’s going to be months before she can get back out in the field.

Hailey’s not even sure she cares anymore. Depression has settled over her like a haze, and more and more, she finds it harder to see beyond the fog surrounding her.

She does what she’s supposed to do. She lets Jay or Vanessa or Adam or Burgess drive her to doctor’s appointments and physical therapy. She does the exercises the PT prescribes for her to do at home. She takes her antibiotics and her pain medication on schedule, and she eats when someone feeds her and she drinks enough water and she lies in bed for the requisite number of hours and she doesn’t push herself too hard. 

But she spends the vast majority of her time staring out the window. 

She knows everyone is worried -- she just doesn’t know what to do about it.

-o-o-

Hailey jumps at the knock on her bedroom door.

She’s tempted to ignore it, tempted to pretend she’s sleeping, but she knows Vanessa will just come in and check on her if she does. 

She’s grateful for it. She is. She just can’t stand to see the sad, worried look that she knows her friend will have.

“Yeah,” she says hoarsely. Her voice still isn’t working properly, her throat scarred by the intubation. She hates the way it sounds. 

Vanessa opens the door, a big, fake smile pasted on her face. 

Hailey hates that too. 

“Hey,” her roommate says cheerfully. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” Hailey says. “Fine.”

Vanessa nods, too hard, too much. “How was PT?”

“It was fine,” Hailey says. 

Vanessa glances around the room. Clearly takes in the fact that Hailey is sitting on her bed, no phone, no TV, no book -- just staring into space.

“So, I hope this is okay,” she says finally. “But, since we all got off early tonight, we thought maybe -- well, everyone wanted to come see you.”

Hailey looks up at her, panic churning in her stomach.

“Who’s everyone?”

“I mean...the whole team,” Vanessa says nervously. “And Platt, Platt was gonna come too. Jay said -- he’s gonna pick up some pizzas and beers and we thought we could just maybe hang out and play poker or something.”

Hailey doesn’t say anything. She feels paralyzed with anxiety at the thought of the whole team being here, in her house, seeing her like this. 

“You know, we didn’t have like a welcome home party,” Vanessa says. She’s talking faster, her voice rising in pitch. “So we thought -- and you know, everyone really misses you at work, so…and we didn’t think you’d want to go to Molly’s, right, so...”

Hailey forces herself to nod. To smile. 

“Tonight?” she asks weakly, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Yeah,” Vanessa says. “Everyone should be here in like an hour.” She looks even more ill-at-ease now, like she knows this is a bad idea.

She looks like she’s expecting Hailey to yell at her.

“Oh,” Hailey manages. 

“Just cause it’s only five thirty,” Vanessa continues in a rush. “And you know, we never get -- I mean, we wouldn’t want to start like at 11:00 or something, of course, because…”

She finally peters out. Hailey forces herself to breathe.

“It’s fine,” she says. She attempts to smile, fails. “I, uh -- it’s good. Thanks. I’m just going to put on some clothes okay?”

Vanessa still looks worried, but she smiles. 

“Okay, good,” she says. “Let me know if -- I’m just gonna clean up a little downstairs, but call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Hailey says, as Vanessa closes the door.

Once it’s shut, Hailey curls into a ball, pain ricocheting through her chest, desperately trying to fight off the panic attack.

-o-o-

Atwater is desperately trying to entertain everyone with his new stand-up routine, but Jay can’t stop glancing at Hailey. 

She’s sitting stiffly in the corner of the couch, her eyes staring vacantly into space. Beside her, Burgess and Vanessa are both cracking up, but Hailey seems to be in another place entirely. 

She doesn’t even move when Voight walks in the front door, doesn’t seem to notice as the rest of the team greets him.

“Nice to see you upright, Hailey,” he says, gruffly, and she jumps, then winces in pain.

“Thanks,” she says, pasting on a shaky smile. “It’s good to be home.”

Voight glances at Jay, and he knows their boss is startled at how bad she looks. 

He takes a seat on one of the folding chairs Vanessa has set out, and the mood turns tense, uncomfortable. No one seems to know what to say. 

Ruzek starts in with a story about his nephew, and Platt tries to tease him, tries to keep the conversation light and normal and fun, but it’s not, it’s not at all, and everyone is painfully aware of it. 

“Guys, I’m really tired,” Hailey says suddenly, and her voice is thick and unsteady. He knows she’s trying not to cry. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

Everyone watches as she slowly, painfully, pushes herself off the couch. She sucks in a breath, and he knows she’s biting her lip to keep from crying. 

“Do you--” Vanessa tries, but Hailey cuts her off.

“No!” she says, her voice harsh and abrupt. 

“We can -- we should go,” Adam says finally. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to--”

“No!” Hailey says, clutching her ribs and avoiding everyone’s eyes. “No, you guys should stay. It’s nice to...I just can’t, so…”

She shakes her head, then nods rapidly. “Thanks for coming. It was really nice to see you all.”

Everyone tries not to stare as she shuffles painfully out of the room. 

-o-o-

Jay knocks on Hailey’s front door, but when there’s no answer, he uses his key, lets himself in. 

He sets the bag of Chinese food on the island in the kitchen, looks around -- she’s not in the living room.

He didn’t expect her to be. He’s not sure if she’s leaving her room at all, unless someone forces her to. And after the previous week’s debacle of a party, he’s not sure they’ll ever be able to coax her out of her room again. 

He knocks again, this time on the door to her bedroom, waits the agonizingly long moment before she finally calls out, “Come in.”

She’s sitting on her bed, as usual. Just sitting -- no TV, no phone, not even a book or a magazine. It breaks his heart. 

There are tears streaked across her cheeks. 

“Hailey,” he says gently. He knew he shouldn’t have gone back to work.

She doesn’t even try to smile, doesn’t try to wipe the tears away. “I’m okay,” she says.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he sits down beside her on the bed, a safe distance away, but close enough that he hopes he’s comforting her, somehow. He wants to hold her hand, wants to wrap his arms around her, but she’s been skittish about being touched since she left the hospital. 

“I was thinking about Alex and Jamie,” she says suddenly. 

His throat clenches. Fuck. 

“They’re doing okay,” he says, because he’d known this was something she would worry about. “They’re still with Mrs. Matthews, but CPS is looking for a family who might want to adopt them.”

Hailey nods, her eyes a universe away. “Did they have a funeral?” she asks, her voice thick with tears and totally void of emotion. “Did they get to say goodbye?”

“I don’t know,” Jay whispers. “I’m sorry, Hailey, I don’t know.”

“I was thinking maybe I could…” she starts, then trails off. He has no idea how that sentence was going to end, no idea what she’s considering doing. 

But she doesn’t continue. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Hailey.”

He’s not sorry he took the shot. He’s sorry he had to do it, sorry that he didn’t take it sooner, sorry that there wasn’t something -- anything -- he could have done to keep it all from happening.

“For what?” she asks, and she seems genuinely confused. 

It’s so unlike her to not understand what he’s saying.

“I didn’t want to shoot her,” he says. “I wish -- but she shot you, and…”

“It’s not your fault,” Hailey says, like that should be so obvious. “I don’t blame you.”

He takes that in, a little stunned.

It’s a huge relief. But there’s something about the way she says it that keeps him from relaxing.

And then the other shoe drops.

“It’s my fault,” she says. “All of it.”

Jay feels like he can’t breathe. He doesn’t even know what to say to that, doesn’t know whether to argue with her or let it go. 

“Why this case?” he blurts out, and it’s like his mouth takes control of his brain. 

Fuck. 

“Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry, Hailey, I--”

But she finally turns to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, wishing he hadn’t started. But… “What was it about Lizzie that...I mean, I know…”

He doesn’t know how to ask the question, doesn’t know the right way to phrase it.

But she nods. He doesn’t need to.

She doesn’t say anything for a long, long time, and he’s pretty sure she’s not going to answer. He thinks about mentioning the Chinese food downstairs -- at least he could get her to eat something.

“I used to fantasize about my dad being dead,” she says finally, unexpectedly.

Jay’s heart stutters in his chest. 

“I would get so angry, like I couldn’t breathe,” she says. “At everyone -- at my brothers, my mom, my teachers.”

She goes quiet again, and he watches her face, wondering what she’s remembering. 

“My mom would always make excuses for him,” she says bitterly, and it’s the most emotion he’s seen from her since she’d gotten home. “That it was the alcohol, or that work was really stressful, or that he loved us so much and he didn’t know how to show it. And I…”

She shakes her head.

“I wanted justice. I wanted him to pay. I wanted him to know how much he hurt me, and I wanted him to hurt the same way.”

He knows how Hailey feels about justice. He thinks of how angry she’d gotten when Voight had told them that Darius would get away with killing her CI. Thinks of the way her eyes had hardened, gone somewhere else. He thinks of how she’d punched Ronald Booth over and over and over again, how he wasn’t even sure she could hear him as he begged her to put the gun down. 

“I think I knew all along that Lizzie had killed her dad,” Hailey says. “Some part of me knew, I guess. And...I don’t know. In a way, I just thought...good for her.”

Jay hesitantly reaches for her hand. When she doesn’t pull away, he laces his fingers through hers. 

It’s all he can do. 

-o-o-

Hailey jerks awake in the middle of the night, whimpering at the pain that sparks through her at the sudden movement. 

She opens her eyes, focuses on the ambient streetlight coming through the blinds, focuses on taking slow, deep breaths.

Focuses on dispelling the remnants of the nightmare still coursing through her veins. 

When the breathing doesn’t work, she tries to sit up, to get out of bed, to get some water or some air, or anything, but there’s a weight on her chest, holding her down.

She panics -- until she realizes that the weight is Jay, sprawled out beside her on the bed, his arm draped protectively over her stomach.

Hailey freezes, suddenly disoriented. She doesn’t remember going to bed with Jay.

She’s under the covers, she realizes, and he’s sprawled out on top of them. She must have fallen asleep, and he’d just...stayed. 

She’s not sure how she should feel about that, but his palm pressed against her abdomen is warm and safe and comforting, and suddenly she feels like she can breathe again, although the nightmare is still thrumming in her blood.

But then he jerks, whimpering in his sleep.

She doesn’t even think about it. She shifts, just slightly, onto her side, and runs her fingers through his hair, her thumb rubbing against his temple the way he does for her. “Shhh,” she whispers. “You’re okay, Jay. It’s all okay.”

The lines on his face smooth out. He seems to settle into her touch, sighing against her hand.

For the first time in weeks, she smiles. 

-o-o-

**Author's Note:**

> Since the season is ending early, and the world is a scary place, I thought I’d write...a depressing story, as usual. I’m not sure how often I can update, but there will be more coming!


End file.
